To Rebuild Better than Before
by daccu65
Summary: Sequel to Picking up the Pieces. Selene, Michael, Tanis, Erika and their new allies return to Europe. Will they be able to end the underworld war or will the hatred between lycan and vampire prove too strong to overcome?
1. Chapter 1

_Before I say anything else, please let me state here that I do not own any of the characters appearing in any of the Underworld series of movies. This story is not intended to generate profit, merely to provide entertainment._

_This story is the sequel to my earlier work, "Picking up the Pieces." Trust me, you'll be very confused if you don't read this earlier story before reading this one. _

_That said, please enjoy the story and if you feel so inclined, leave a review so that I can improve my work._

_Daccu65_

* * *

Chapter One: Goodbye to Home.

"This seems really strange for me to say to you but Selene, will you please quit fidgeting?"

Selene looked at her companion with an expression that mixed annoyance, amusement and chastisement. He was right, of course. The chartered airliner had taken off just after sunset, flying east over the Atlantic. In the three hours it had been in the air, she hadn't been able to relax. Michael, exhausted from helping the combined lycan and vampire force prepare for the trip, desperately needed his sleep. Her constant squirming, while seated next to him, made this impossible.

"I can't settle down," she told him. "I'll find an empty seat so you can rest." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before getting up to find a spot where her uneasiness wouldn't irritate anyone else. There wasn't a whole lot to work with.

The airliner was neither a cargo plane nor a passenger aircraft. Instead, it was something of a hybrid. Roughly three-quarters of the passenger compartment had been converted into a cargo hold, leaving limited seating choices. Selene didn't really feel like sitting next to any of the twenty-some fellow travelers. While she was allied with the North American Pack, she really didn't consider them friends. Although she was no longer a death dealer, several lifetimes spent hunting lycans wouldn't allow her to set her aversion aside in such a short time. She wasn't the only one. She had gained a reputation among the werewolves and the New World Pack had done its best to keep track of the European Underworld War. Her fellow passengers were all lycans and well aware of how many of their species she had eliminated over the centuries. Although they were disciplined and stoic, Selene had no doubt that they were more than willing to eliminate the lycan killer.

John, the lycan elder she hadn't even heard a rumor of a month ago, motioned to her. He gestured towards the empty seat next to him. How different he was from the elders she had known! Amelia had been somewhat kindly but very aloof. Marcus's temper had been so unpredictable and his anger so terrible that few vampires in the coven wanted to be anywhere near him. Even her patron, Victor, had been strictly imposing, demanding that all underlings recognize and respect his authority. John was more of a stern yet caring father, encouraging his charges to grow and contribute to the pack's well being.

"I take it you're having trouble resting," he observed, as she took the seat he had indicated.

"A force of habit, elder," she replied. "An aircraft's body doesn't provide enough shelter from sunlight to protect a vampire. Until a few weeks ago, flying to the east would have been risky to the point of beeing foolhardy. Although I know we're due to land in Dublin a full hour before sunup, I cannot discard centuries' worth of caution so quickly."

John frowned at the honorific she used to address him. This was another habit she could not discard. While Amelia, Marcus and Victor had all demanded to be addressed as 'elder', John preferred his pack to call him 'sir'. This, a title of respect but not veneration, further differentiated him from his European counterparts. The lycan did, however, smile at her explanation.

"It would be foolish if you discarded your caution," he told her. "It's what keeps us alive but I don't think that the sun is the only thing that has you worked up."

"I'm nervous about what we're going to find back in Europe," she admitted.

"So you've already said. Now, it's just the two of us speaking, no Tanis and no Michael. Tell me everything."

For a moment, Selene hesitated. She still didn't fully trust this lycan elder who had kept his pack hidden for so long. However, she realized that there was no holding back now.

"I have grave doubts about some of the senior coven members, who weren't at Ordoghaz when Marcus destroyed it."

"You've already reported this," John observed. "But you carefully managed to avoid mentioning why you were concerned. The time for caution is well past. Either we deal with this now or we're all in grave danger."

"You are correct of course, eld…er…sir. I can recall three ambitious coven members who were away from the mansion on business when Marcus awoke. These three business executives have not experienced combat with either humanity or the lycans." Here, Selene halted and looked at the elder with an almost fearful expression.

"I don't hold your past against you," John assured her. "We've all done some things we might later regret. I learned the hard way to just forgive and move on."

"When does a willingness to forgive cross over into being too passive?" Selene asked.

"I'll let you know when I figure it out myself," John told her, with a self-mocking grin. "Anyway, these business executives haven't had to dodge bullets and heal from beatings…"

"And like a youngster playing one of these…video games…they don't realize just how unpleasant violence is," Selene completed his thought. "They've never seen a friend or comrade torn or blasted apart. Furthermore, they were mesmerized by tales and histories of the time when the coven openly ruled humanity in Victor's province."

"Before the mortals developed the technology to counter immortal advantages?"

"Exactly, sir. These business executives have openly asked why we don't set up another feudal fiefdom, where human serfs pay a tithe in blood and we rule openly."

"You can't be serious!"

"I wish I weren't, sir. They honestly think that vampire strengths can overcome human numbers and technology. Not only that, they have access to the coven's wealth and other resources. Sir, I feel it very likely that one or more of these three may attempt to acquire the resources they need to execute such a plan."

"And doom all immortals, as well as a sizable number of mortals, when the mortals realize we exist." John finished.

"Dooming humans?" Selene asked.

"I prefer the term mortal," John tersely corrected the younger immortal. "And I'm serious about this. If the mortals become aware of our existence, there's going to be a witch-hunt the likes that the world has never seen! Everyone who's a little different, who has habits that sets himself apart from those around him is suddenly going to be accused of being either a lycan or a vampire. Of course, we'll be obliterated as a side effect."

This brought Selene up short and drove home, once again, just how different John was from her coven's elders. One of the coven's prime beliefs, at the very core of coven life, was the absolute conviction that vampires were the supreme species on earth. John not only refused to place his lycans above humanity, he held fast to the conviction that both lycans and vampires _**were**_ humans. With this belief in place, John had managed peaceful, if deceptive, coexistence with his fellow man.

"Forgive me sir," Selene dropped her gaze, acknowledging his authority. "But I remain more concerned about immortals. Yet I believe both of our goals are met with the same action. We must end the underworld war."

"You have no argument from me. I only hope that my kin and I can reign in our cousins in the old country."

"I've had trouble understanding your concerns," Selene admitted. "The European Packs are nowhere near as capable and strong as your organization."

"We're not dealing with a strictly military solution. This is cultural and political, as well. Ultimately, the European Packs and the remnants of the coven are going to have to decide, themselves, to quit fighting. This could be rough, since the hatred is so ingrained."

"You think that we're incapable of recognizing this?"

"I'm not saying that my European Kin are foolish, just conditioned. Use yourself as an example. How many times did you kill lycans, even when you risked mortals observing you? You told me about the encounter that you had when the lycans first tried to grab your companion. When the bullets first started flying through the subway, you should have cut and run but thwarting your enemy was more important to you than avoiding discovery."

Selene was stunned by this revelation.

"This is what we're going to be fighting; ingrained hatred and simply crushing the belligerents isn't going to be enough. We have to enforce limits and set boudaries that both sides will accept. Ultimately, the coven and the packs are going to have to accept any peace in order for it to work. We're not strong enough to force the peace down their throats so we're going to have to use a delicate mixture of diplomacy, logic and brutal violence. A whole lot's riding on our success." After a pause, he admitted, "the lycans are probably going to be worse than the bloods."

"Why do you believe this, sir?"

"We have a scouting report, of sorts, on the bloods. Add to this, your coven's been living among the mortals for centuries, keeping just out of the public's full awareness. My cousins have been ground under heel, fractured. This means that there isn't a single, governing body to deal with. While the bloods might have some breakaway elements, the infrastructure's in place. The packs are one, big breakaway element and I don't know very much about them. One group might be agreeable to peaceful coexistence while the next one might be more interested in revenge _**and**_ react violently to anyone promoting peace."

"So we execute the plan we came up with back in New Orleans?"

"Exactly. My pack and I will try to track down and convert the European Packs. We have a few contacts, which will hopefully put us on the trail of more. It's going to be a long time before I head back west."

"At least you'll have a home to return to," Selene pointed out. "None of the coven's elders ever dared to leave power behind. It was too easy for an ambitious lieutenant to seize control. Your pack is more like a big family and will welcome you back with open arms."

"I'll be able to return to my pack but not to Farrier Ranch," John's face showed his sadness. "I lived there for almost a century so it was probably time to move on anyway." He shook his head. "I gave the order shortly after we moved on the coven in New Orleans. The pack is relocating even as we speak and to a place none of us on this plane know about. By now, my staff has picked one of their members, at random, to select a new headquarters. Any of us who survive this trial will have some names to contactwhen we return but we'll all be homeless until our kin guide us to the new den."

"Have you returned to Europe since leaving originally?" Selene found herself honestly curious and enjoying the conversation with this man whom, up until a few weeks ago, she would have considered a mortal enemy.

"Only once. I only visited the western nations. I never got to the east to see my old stomping grounds."

"Oh? How did you travel? Was travel still by ship at the time or did you travel by air?"

"I shipped from the U.S. to England and flew to France. I returned by ship to England before flying to Holland. After that, I traveled by land back to France, then to Belgium, then to Germany."

"That seems a rather odd tour plan," Selene noted.

"I can't really blame my tour guide," John was smiling again. "Ike had to send us where the fighting was and the Germans weren't making it a pleasant trip."

"You fought in the war?"

"101st Airborne. I had mastered the art of passing normal food through my system about a half-century before that war broke out. I enlisted and volunteered for the airborne forces."

"Didn't this risk exposure?"

"Yeah but I still believe that the risks of not doing anything were even worse. If the other side had won the war, they would have eventually figured out that we exist. I joined up to help tilt the outcome as much as I could."

"And nobody suspected?"

"Oh, my unit knew there was something…odd…about me but they didn't complain. They never realized that I was using a wolf's sense of smell, they just knew that I somehow knew where the mines and snipers were. They weren't about to question how I could be so darn effective on nighttime patrols, they just accepted that I could keep them alive."

"Did any of the officers suspect that you were different?"

"The lieutenant knew that something was up but he wasn't about to make any noise. I wasn't the only lycan to serve in the war, there were a few on either side. Privates, sergeants and lieutenants suspected something was up but the generals and political leaders never suspected a thing. You probably know more than I do about what went down in Eastern Europe."

"The coven went to ground and waited out the war," Selene informed him. "The Death Dealers quit hunting lycans and concentrated on keeping our existence a secret. I spent those years first eliminating curious Gestapo agents then making Soviet Intelligence agents vanish. When the war ended, we found that the packs had expanded and grown stronger. It took us decades to suppress them again."

"And now you're working with us."

"To a common goal sir. I assure you…"

"I've already told you that I don't hold a grudge," John gently chided her. "I think we've made the best plans we can. My blood counterparts, riding in back, will try to establish contacts with the European Coven's remnants and reign them in. My packmates and I will try to track down our counterparts and get them to stop. Tanis and his companion will be responsible for trying to reactivate the cleaners."

"What about Michael and myself?"

"I see you two as troubleshooters," John explained. "Going wherever things are going wrong. The two of you'll also make sure that none of us try to doublecross the others."

"You suspect the vampires in the cargo compartment?"

"And they suspect me," John nodded. "And with good reason. Selene, you and Michael are in a unique position. Neither of you is connected to an established group. After Victor's betrayal, you have no love of either coven or pack. You're also not a scoundrel, like Tanis. At the end of the day, you're a survivor and you'll do what's necessary to survive. Right now, that means ending the underworld war. After that, I hope we can remain allies, if not friends." He paused for a moment. "Selene, you've had a great deal of experience living as an immortal but you haven't had a great deal of experience **_living_**, if you understand me. In addition, your companion hasn't had much experience living as an immortal. My pack has been teaching new immortals how to live among their mortal kin for centuries and we've done a pretty good job of it. Once we finish this mission, I'd like to help the two of you find a peaceful life."

"I'd like that, as well."

* * *

Aft of where John and Selene spoke, in the aircraft's cargo hold, several vampires rode in the dubious comfort provided by the New World Coven's mobile rig.

"Are you sure this rig will save us if daylight catches us still in the air?" Erika demanded.

"If it fails to protect us, you will be free to chastise me with your dying breath," Mr. Lecoq noted. "However, since we find ourselves in a difficult situation with untested allies, perhaps we would be better served making plans as opposed to expressing our paranoia."

"My apologies, elder," Tanis stepped in. "My companion hasn't been through the occasional power upheavals that we have experienced. As such, she's taking her first such crises harder than I am."

"I'm not an elder yet," Lecoq corrected the historian. "But I accept your apology. For all the fact that you are a self-proclaimed scoundrel, you are still the only vampire with extensive, lycan experience. Can we trust John and his followers?"

"Selene has had much more experience than I have," Tanis pointed out.

"I don't count shooting them while dodging fangs and claws to be experience," the regent quipped, dryly. "You're the only one of us who has had business and social contacts with a lycan pack and lived to tell the tale. Now, I know that you're going to be sorely tempted to twist your answer to your own benefit but I must remind you that we're dealing with a very serious situation. Can we trust these lycans?"

"To the best of my knowledge, yes." Tanis answered. "At least until this crises is resolved. Should we prove successful, they will not turn on you. However, the days of vampire supremacy over the lycans is over, as long as they remain a cohesive force."

Lecoq nodded. "I can learn to accept a civil, lycan presence, especially if they police their own. Now, how will an organized lycan presence affect our chances at success?"

"It's hard for me to say," Tanis admitted. "We actually have a better chance of success with Victor and Amelia gone. Don't glare at me like that! While I revere Amelia's memory, even you have to admit that she was a staunch lycan-hater."

After another few moments of glaring at the historian, Mr. Lecoq nodded his admission.

"As a historian, I might have a different perspective on this than most others," Tanis continued. "A new day, for better or worse, is about to descend upon the covens. For centuries, we fought the lycans. Sometimes we held the upper hand; sometimes we were driven into hiding. I've survived both situations and I can assure you that holding the upper hand is vastly preferable. However, we cannot sustain this situation any longer. The heirs of both Marcus and William must either make peace of fall to a paranoid, human race."

"I've already grasped that fact," Mr. Lecoq reminded Tanis. "Now, what are our chances of convincing our European counterparts that this is fact?"

"The European coven isn't composed of idiots," Tanis informed the regent. "But the hatred is ingrained. The European packs are in a similar situation. Furthermore, the leadership of both pack and coven was determined to maintain power. For the coven, the lycans were a convenient scapegoat, a way of keeping the rest of the coven focused upon an outside threat. How many vampires would refuse to serve and support Victor, when they were convinced that the lycans would crush them if they denied the elder the resources he needed to keep us safe?"

"Do you honesty believe that our species have spent the last seven centuries in bloody conflict because the elders wouldn't share power?"

"Not exclusively," Tanis shrugged. "There are a multitude of contributing factors. Should we eliminate just a few of these factors, the inter-species war will come to an end."

"So do you see our mission as being relatively straightforward?"

"Not at all!" Tanis insisted. "The majority of lycans and vampires will be easy to convince. It is the rogue elements that concern me the most. There are always a few who refuse to accept a non-dominant role. There are sure to be a handful, both vampire and lycan, who won't give up their hate. If we prove unwilling or incapable of dealing with these elements, our efforts will fail. That's why we need to reestablish the Cleaners."

"How can humans succeed where vampires fail?" Erika demanded.

"Politics," Tanis shrugged his shoulders again. "The Cleaners will become the ultimate 'somebody else', like they have in the past. Consider this, one of your charges becomes too ambitious and risks exposing the entire coven. You must eliminate this individual but he turns out to be very well connected. If you eliminate him, you risk civil war within the coven. If the lycans eliminate him, interspecies war could erupt. However, if the Cleaners eliminate him, the remainder of the coven can bemoan his loss and the lycans can take comfort knowing that the uppity blood has been taken care of."

"Do you really think that we are all so childish as that?" Lecoq demanded. "Do you think that your own species has lived for centuries, unable to make a difficult decision?"

"In a word, yes," Tanis replied. "Most of us feared Victor, some of us hated him but all of us respected him. He owned the coven, as much as he made the pretense of sharing power with Amelia and Marcus. He had the political power and will to force his decisions upon the rest of us. Now, we have no true elders. You're the closest thing we have left and can you honestly say that you can handle the fallout if you ever have to kill one of your chief advisors?"

"I concede your point," the adjutant told the historian. "How long will it take you to reestablish them?"

"I honestly don't know. I only have a handful of contacts to work with."

"Estimate!"

"Very well. I believe I can establish a group of elderly, yet capable former Cleaners organized and in operation within a year."

"That quickly? I thought you said that the retired Cleaners were told to never speak to each other."

"Mr. Lecoq, you should know as well as I that orders do not preclude friendship. These men have repeatedly faced terrifying, life-threatening situations, side-by-side. While they have kept their interactions discrete, they have undoubtedly kept in touch. Once I convince the first one that it is necessary to come out of retirement, he will get in touch with his fellows, who will do the same. This will set off a chain reaction, which will reawaken the military arm very shortly. It is the support structure that concerns me."

"The finances," Lecoq favored the rogue with a knowing grin. "Alexander Corvinus spent centuries acquiring a great deal of wealth."

"Which we need to finance the Cleaners' operation," Tanis countered. "These men need to be equipped, fed, and cared for. They need transportation, intelligence and training. All of this costs money and this means we need to access this financial empire."

"And you won't mind taking a cut, as well."

"I make no secret of the fact that I'm a scoundrel. If you leave some money on the table, it's sure to find its way into my pocket. On the other hand, I'm aware of the fact that my best chance to survive is to play my part in this adventure. You can trust me to promote my self interest and I'm more interested in my own skin than anything else."

"Very well," Lecoq nodded. "When will you start?"

"Tomorrow evening. There is a gentleman named Mark Lippens who lives in Dublin. He's a former Cleaner and I can meet with him while you're arranging to fly the aircraft to the European mainland."

"You don't waste time."

"Like I said, I'm very serious about maintaining my life. Erika and I will see him tomorrow."

"The two of you?" Lecoq asked.

"The two of us," Erika demanded, at the same time. "Why the two of us?"

"You're another scoundrel, like me," Tanis smiled at his lover. "Between the two of us, we should be able to spot any double-crosses. Besides that, you happen to be very pretty. Middle aged men tend to be more receptive to offers from pretty young women."

"If he's a cleaner, he'll know that I'm older than his mother."

"True, but that won't make any difference. Besides that, you'll gain some experience dealing with such men. When we really get working hard, we may need to split up."

"I don't trust either of you," Lecoq declared.

"You would be foolish to trust either of us," Tanis assured him. "What you can trust is our desire to remain alive. Once we have assured our own survival, then you'll need to keep an eye on us."

* * *

"You look like you still have some questions," Brian told his charge. "Go ahead and ask."

"Okay, I don't really understand why we moved." Owen admitted.

"We moved because the bloods were on to us," Brian explained. "While we've moved several times in my lifetime, this is the most serious incident any of our graybeards can recall."

"What makes this time so bad?"

"First of all, four from outside the pack found out that we exist and where we operated from. Secondly, several packmates are heading to Europe on a very dangerous mission. If the bloods, or anyone else, capture them and either drugs or tortures them, they might give up the location. This meant it was time to leave."

"Okay, where are we?" Owen looked out over a wide landscape of rolling prairie.

"All I'll say is that you're in Alberta, north of Edmonton," Brian told him. "As you can see, we have a lot of work to do before we're as comfortable here as we were back in Montana."

"So that's why you're working me so hard."

"It's one reason," Brian smiled. "There are other reasons, as well. First of all, you still haven't come to grips with the excess testosterone the change has pumped into your system. You're short tempered and tend to act before you think. I know that you've gotten into a couple of fights with older packmates and that they've thumped you pretty hard. It's part of the learning process."

"How long will this all take?"

"It may take decades," the smile vanished from Brian's face. "You have a lot to master before you can leave our stronghold. You have to be able to control the change, you have to control your anger and you'll have to learn to pass normal food without taking harm. It's different with every one of us but the harder you work; the quicker you master these skills. Now, I have a question for you. Have you entertained any thoughts about sneaking away and trying to escape back to your old life?"

"No," Owen admitted, after a moment of thought. "I've thought of trying to find a telephone and call my parents to tell them that I'm alive but I can't come home but I realize that doing this won't help them. Why haven't I thought about escaping."

"It's another aspect of the change you've gone through. Wolves live in packs and follow the leader's directions. You've found a pack and John, our leader, told you to stay with us. Now, you're sort of wired to follow his instructions. We're your new family now and you're starting to find your place within it."

"So what happens next?"

"Next, you'll go back to the house and work over the sales figures. I know it sounds cold but the pack needs cash to interact with normal humans. The best way to get the cash is to transfer the assets we had back in Montana to our new property, discretely."

"I knew that! I meant, what happens to the pack."

"We do what we have always done. We endure, we adapt and we survive."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Flaws in the Alliance

"So you're going to go out and leave us here," Mr. Lecoq maintained a calm demeanor but he allowed the tone of his voice communicate the fact that he considered the situation a betrayal.

"You know it's necessary," John rolled his eyes, a gesture the polite man seldom made. "We need to get a grip on the situation and that means starting to work right now. We'll go out during the day and see if we can scent any lycans or bloods…"

Selene, listening to the two leaders' exchange, started at John's use of the lycans derogative term for the vampires. John came across, initially, as being a little slow-witted but he wasn't. He had a disturbing tendency to think about what he was about to say before actually saying it. As such, John must have deliberately leveled an insult at Lecoq.

"…about,' John continued. "To the best of both of our knowledge, neither of our kind has ever established a presence in Ireland. If either a lycan or a vampire has fled the mainland for this island, Dublin is the natural den. We'll wander the streets to see if we can catch a scent while we confirm that we can find Mr. Lippens where Tanis thinks he's living. Once night falls, we'll escort Tanis, Erika and whichever of your party you want to observe, to Mr. Lippens' home."

"What assurances do I have that you won't simply abandon us here?" Lecoq demanded.

"What assurances do you have in any event!" John snapped at his questioner. "It's very clear that you're trying to get some concession from me. I don't have the wit or the patience for such! Just tell me what you're trying to accomplish and we'll discuss it!"

For a long moment, Mr. Lecoq simply glared at the other immortal. Finally…

"You see through my ruse," he admitted with a pained smile. "When you are in a moment of weakness, make outrageous accusations and demands. Very well, I am genuinely concerned that my coven will be cut out of any negotiations if you catch some strays on Dublin's streets. I request that you do not make contact with any Cleaner, or any stray immortal, unless one of my representatives can be present."

"We didn't intend to in any case," John grumbled in return. "We're off now. We have our radios so you'll know what we find as soon as we find it." With that, the immortal spun on his heel and stormed out of the vampires' safe rig. Both Michael and Selene fell in step with him as he strode, angrily, across the rented hangar.

"That wasn't a very good idea," Tanis told Lecoq, once the lycan had left.

"I think it was. I just made it very clear to the lycan that we will not be cut out of the decision making process."

"You could have done it by simply telling him!" Tanis snapped back. "Instead, you insulted him!"

"You forget your place, _historian_!" Lecoq was usually a calm man but Tanis had managed to irk him.

"I'm perfectly aware of my place," Tanis retorted. "I'm the poor bastard who's going to get caught in the middle if this little alliance goes to hell!"

"You are a servant who will do as he's told!"

"I'm an older, wiser vampire than you who isn't going to let my entire race, including myself, die because my so-called superiors are more interested in personal status than racial survival!"

"In that case, oh wise vampire, what did I do wrong?"

"You treated your counterpart like a criminal conspirator, not like an honorable partner! When you negotiate with a slimeball, you do what you just did; you demand the impossible, insult his intentions, and work your way to something you can both accept. That elder lycan is more like a country gentleman, you give him a reasonable request, explain your concerns and come to common ground in a calm manner!"

"I've represented the New World Coven for three centuries! I'll follow my own counsel."

"I've watched our race perform both brilliantly and like a pack of imbeciles for more than twice that long! Don't you think I've learned to spot the patterns?"

For several seconds, the two vampires glared daggers at each other. Erika was honestly frightened that Lecoq would order a couple of his loyal followers to toss Tanis, and possibly her, out of the safe rig and into the hangar's inadequate protection. Finally…

"You go too far with your insolence," Lecoq hissed at Tanis, his jaw clenched with the effort of keeping his voice low. "You have the potential of being a valued advisor but you will do so in a respectful manner. Was it your insolence or your untrustworthiness that caused you to be banished?"

"Neither," Tanis replied in a similar, strained tone. "It was one of my rare forays into honesty and discretion but that isn't important right now. What's important is that you're alienating an ally that you need! For pity's sake, if you need something from him please let me handle it! You said it yourself, earlier, that I've had more peaceful contact with lycans than any vampire! Make use of that experience!"

"Very well," Lecoq snarled back. "I believe that this discussion has run its course. After the lycans locate Mr. Lippens, and you stun us all with your experience and tact, we will discus your usefulness again."

Tanis could only offer a curt nod before storming off to one of the rig's far corners. After a moment, Erika followed him, dismayed that her fellow vampires might prove more difficult that the lycans or the Cleaners.

* * *

Mark Lippens was starting to get annoyed. When he retired from his last employment, at the relatively young age of forty-six, his pension had seemed very generous. To be certain, it still was but with Dublin's economy booming, the cost of living was getting higher and higher. Mark didn't want to move out of his comfortable home in the suburbs so he was forced to contemplate picking up some part time work. Mark had no problem with hard work and long hours, his previous employment made even the roughest jobs available look like a cakewalk. The only problem Mark had was that he couldn't be honest about whom he had worked for and what he had done. This made a resume a dicey thing, at best.

Another thing that had Mark annoyed was the news he had heard from Hungary. In the past several weeks, a certain mansion had burned to the ground and a very expensive, private ship had blown up at a Budapest dock. When Mark left that certain organization, his boss forbade him from contacting them again. While Mark understood why that organization wanted to maintain absolute secrecy, he was forced to question the wisdom now.

Mark wasn't worried about his pension, the accounts that supplied the money and the managers who made sure he received it operated completely independently from the managers on the ship. The problem was that whomever or, more likely _**whatever**_ had eliminated the ship probably had a major beef with those, like Mark, who had served aboard the ship in the past. With the extreme secrecy that organization maintained, Mark was unable to confirm exactly what had happened. The only thing that he knew for certain was that the official reports out of Budapest would have only the slightest resemblance to actual events.

Even the potential danger he was facing was secondary in Mark's thoughts. The people who had been aboard that ship were more than coworkers; they were comrades in arms. A man just couldn't face the things he had faced, side by side with them, and not develop feelings stronger than friendship. Those men were family beyond his own kin. At the moment the only contacts he had were with a couple of fellow retirees, and these contacts were strictly against 'company policy.' Even so, these contacts didn't have any more information than he did. The only thing any of them knew was that something very odd was taking place, the sort of thing that they used to deal with. Mark was convinced that he should be doing something but he didn't have the slightest clue what.

A knock on his door interrupted his musings. He set down the newspaper he was reading (since when did he count on Eastern European tabloids for news?) reached into his jacket pocket to make sure that his 'insurance hardware' was ready and answered the door. He found himself confronted by what appeared to be a young couple.

"Good evening, Mr. Lippens," the young man politely inclined his head. "My name is Andreas Tanis and my lovely companion is Erika."

The blonde woman (and yes, Mark had to admit that she was lovely) smiled and nodded at the introduction.

"I was hoping that you would like to have a little chat about some…interesting events happening in Hungary," the man continued. It was only after a moment that Mark realized that he had spoken in Hungarian. "We could either meet here, or a more public local. Of course, we risk being…misunderstood if we meet where we can be overheard."

"I'm interested," Mark replied. "But I'm not about to leave this house after dark and I'm not about to invite more than one person into my house."

"Understood," the man nodded. "Of course, I represent…other interests. While I applaud your caution I'd like to request that my patrons contribute to the discussion, albeit remotely."

"That makes sense. Miss Erika, I hate to turn you out on the street at night but I have a funny feeling that you're not going to run into anything rougher than you are."

The blonde woman flashed a conspiratorial, yet alluring smile his way (when would he ever outgrow his weakness for dimples?), spun on her heel and strode off into the night.

"Before you come inside, Mr. Tanis…"

"Simply Tanis will be fine. I've answered to that name for a very, very long time."

"Very well, Tanis, you need to know something," Mark angled the partially opened door so that no passers by could see and pulled the Beretta out of his pocket. "I'm a very nervous sort at this moment and this is going to be pointed at you the entire time. Now, you might be willing to pass this off as a mere annoyance so I have to be honest with you and tell you that half of the rounds contain a UV emitting chemical and the other half are silver. I don't know who, or more likely _what_, you happen to be but I prefer to be honest about such things."

"I see I have found the man I was looking for," Tanis offered a tight grin. "And custom demands that I respond to your honesty with some honesty of my own. I will find your silver rounds to be inconvenient but your UV rounds to be…scorching."

Mark Lippens seated his guest at the kitchen table and took the chair across the table from him. Moving slowly, Tanis pulled out his cell phone, dialed the mobile rig's number and introduced the retired Cleaner to John and Lecoq. Mr. Lecoq, being the most articulate of the conversation's immortals, explained the situation to Mark.

"So Mr. Macaro is dead," Mark grumbled. "I always respected that man and not just because he paid well. He ran a solid organization and looked out for his people, which isn't easy when you're trying to keep it secret."

"And we need you to help reform that solid organization," Tanis urged him.

"Why?" Mark's gaze was piercing as he regarded the vampire. "According to you, your sort are going on a killing rampage, slaughtering each other. I'm retired, why should I jump back into that mess?"

"If this is about the money, I can assure you that we'll…" Tanis never got the chance to finish his statement.

"This isn't a bloody ploy to get more money!" Mark snarled. "I don't work that way! If I decide to do this, I'll ask for proper compensation and I'll get it. I spent eight years in the SAS, followed by another twelve in the Cleaners. Most of my mates have similar stories. All of us have earned the right to a bit of peace! Why should we go back into a situation that, if you're telling the truth, is even worse than it was when I left?"

"These are valid concerns," John's voice agreed over the cell's speaker. "Why don't you give me a chance to answer them? First of all, I have to ask you if the time you spent in the Cleaners was just a job for you or if you really cared about what you were doing. Mr. Macaro formed his organization for a purpose. Did you just take his money and do the job or did you get to the point where you believed in what he was doing?"

"The second thing I'd have to ask you is do you have the right to make that choice for your fellow retirees, without their knowledge?" John continued, as Mark's expression became indignant over the first question. "You're one of the very few retired Cleaners we know about so you're our doorway to the others. It isn't a position you volunteered for and it isn't fair to you but right now, you're going to decide if your fellows will have a chance to take up the cause they used to believe in or if they'll remain ignorant about what's really happening."

"Finally," John persisted, blissfully unaware of Mark's darkening expression. "You'll have to ask yourself if you're willing to straighten out the mess for your fellow man. Sure, the lycans and vampires are killing each other in Eastern Europe right now but do you really think that they'll stay in Eastern Europe or that they'll be content to slaughter each other? What happens when some of them decide to run away and find themselves in a new place, out of food and surrounded by unsuspecting humans? What happens when the general population becomes aware of the parasitic immortals living in its midst?"

"You've earned your peaceful retirement, nobody can argue that," John concluded. "But how long will it remain peaceful? If the population learns that vampires and werewolves are real, it's going to start turning on its own. Think of the witch trials in the Middle Ages and you'll have a pretty good idea what will happen. I left my own, peaceful life because I don't think my life will remain peaceful unless I do something. I hope that you can reach the same conclusion or, at the very least, decide that your former comrades have the right to decide for themselves."

Tanis watched Mark struggle with the information, the former Cleaner was clearly conflicted for several minutes until finally…

"Give me a number and I'll call you tomorrow," the man grumbled.

"We don't have the time," Tanis protested. "I'm sure that you can appreciate that some of us require special transportation arrangements and we cannot reschedule at a moment's notice."

"Then it's just too bad for you," Lippens snarled back. "You'll not rush me in such a decision. Give me a way to call you and I'll do it tomorrow. If you won't give me the time to figure out if you're trying to hoodwink me, then it's pretty obvious you are. I'll call you tomorrow, during daylight, and I'll meet with this John character who gave me the big speech."

"Leave him be," Lecoq instructed Tanis. "Some of us can separate from the original group. They'll find a place to stay in Dublin and meet with him when he decides. Mr. Lippens, I hope that you choose to assist us but if you don't, please don't hinder us."

"I guess there isn't much more to say," Tanis drawled, closing the phone and handing his host a business card. "You'll be able to reach one of us at this number. Before I leave, please allow me to throw my pitch into the fray. I'm no honorable man, Mr. Lippens. This is probably why my benefactors chose me to meet with you, they weren't overly dismayed at the prospect that you would panic and eliminate me. In the past, I've played both sides in this conflict and I have no doubt that both sides have played me. However, this is the first time, in over four centuries, that I've actually taken on an altruistic role. Right now, I have no doubt that I could vanish into the Dublin streets and avoid my benefactors' wrath. This situation is so dire that I'm willing to return and face the displeasure of both lycan and vampire. I truly hope that you'll assist us so that I can go back to being a cowardly weasel again."

Mark saw his guest out then locked the door. He spent several minutes stalking through his home, making sure nobody had managed to sneak in and assuring himself that all of the windows and doors were securely locked. After that, he picked up his telephone and started to dial some numbers he wasn't supposed to know.

* * *

"You took a major chance with Mr. Lippens," Lecoq told John. The administrator had regained his composure. "What if he is angered to the point where he wants nothing to do with us?"

"I don't think so," John replied. "Have you ever led soldiers? I don't mean commanding them, I mean leading them, personally, into conflict?"

"No, I've always been an administrator. I've never been in the Death Dealer ranks."

"Let me give you a piece of information. The very best don't do it for a paycheck. They expect their pay but that isn't their primary motivation. The very best do it for something else. Sometimes it's for a flag, sometimes it's maintaining a family tradition and sometimes it's just proving something to themselves. There are so many reasons that even we can't know all of them. The simple fact is that Mr. Mark Lippens is motivated by a lot more than his paycheck. I checked the records Tanis had obtained and I knew that he was SAS before Alexander Corvinus recruited him. Either that man believed in what he was doing or he never would have stayed with the Cleaners for as long as he did."

"That's one man," Lecoq pointed out. "What about the others?"

"If I can trust Tanis, Alexander Corvinus went out of his way to recruit from the world's elite military and law enforcement organizations. These people won't simply lose interest in what they were doing when they retire. Trust me, at least a few of his fellow retirees are going to want to see the Cleaners' work continue."

"So who do you suggest stays here and waits for Mr. Lippens to call."

"I obviously have to," John shrugged. "I suggest you take all of the vampires with you and the mobile rig. I also suggest you take Selene. Any surviving Death Dealers will recognize and respect her."

"What about Michael and your pack?"

"Take all of my packmates with you," John suggested. "You'll need all of the noses you can get. Michael, on the other hand, hasn't been an immortal for very long. He's not a fool, just inexperienced. If he stays with me, I can kind of keep an eye on him." John suddenly broke out in a wide grin. "Besides that, I haven't left North America since the Second World War. He's traveled through Europe since then, so he should be able to keep me out of trouble, as well."

* * *

To say that Selene was displeased with the travel arrangements was a considerable understatement. What really shocked the former Death Dealer was how upset she was over her pending, albeit temporary, separation from Michael. Selene was no innocent little girl experiencing her first crush; in the five centuries she had walked the Earth, she had seen and experienced almost everything possible. While she had never established anything close to a long-term romantic involvement, she had taken the occasional lover. She honestly hadn't seen what the fuss had been all about. When her body needed food she became hungry and consumed. When her body was damaged she felt pain and dealt with the wound. When her body demanded intimacy she sought out a companion and made love. Not all vampires were scoundrels, like Tanis or obsessed possessives, like Kraven. Most were decent, if jaded by decades or centuries of existence. Kahn, the studious yet humorous weapon master, had been her most frequent partner.

For all that she had been very fond of him, she had to admit that she and Kahn hadn't really been lovers. The current term for the relationship they had shared would have been friends with benefits. She felt no jealousy knowing that Kahn took an occasional lover other than her and he had never shown any possessiveness over that aspect of their relationship. She had no interest in romance and he made no demands. For her, it was an excellent arrangement. Even Victor, who so many had suspected of having ulterior motives towards her person, had approved of the dalliance. The elder even occasionally asked her if she was ready to move out of her quarters in the mansion. The fact that he wanted her to be happy made his betrayal all the more hurtful.

Now, despite her age and experience, despite the fact that a couple days' separation shouldn't mean anything to someone over five centuries old, she faced the upcoming time apart with a decided lack of enthusiasm.

"I want you to realize that I do not appreciate you making these arrangements without our input!" She snapped at both Lecoq and John. In retrospect, she really should have waited a bit after returning to the hangar and hearing the news before stating her case but wisdom and caution weren't her normal methods of dealing with things.

"You forget your place," Lecoq said in a deceptively mild tone. "I speak for the coven."

"And the coven lost all claim upon me when Victor betrayed me, Kraven imprisoned me and Marcus attacked me!" She countered with a cold voice. "Let me make something abundantly clear to the two of you. I respect your age and experience. However, Michael and myself are members of neither the coven nor the pack. We will follow your decision in this case, since both of us appreciate the necessity but we are a third faction, the hybrids and you will consult with us before making such decisions."

"Too many factions mean long delays to make decisions," John pointed out, with a reasonable tone. "We need to move fast if we're going to put things back together. I know that Michael is the only true ally you have at this moment but things are a lot bigger than the two of you. He and I'll keep an eye on each other and I've told my pack that if anybody takes the opportunity for some revenge, there'll be hell to pay in the unlikely event that they survive it. With any luck, we'll get done what we need to and have the two of you reunited in a couple of days."

Selene offered a curt nod, deciding to let the two leaders believe that John had guessed the reason behind her irritation. The real answer would be too embarrassing to admit.

"Why don't you and Michael get some sleep?" The elder lycan suggested. "You have another twelve hours before we load the rig. When that happens, you will travel outside of the rig, with the pack, to make sure nothing happens to it."

"What's the itinerary?" Michael asked. "We were out renting the rooms when you made the arrangements."

"The coven has close contacts with a couple of shipping companies," Lecoq explained. "One of these firms will pick up the rig tomorrow and load it on a small freighter. The freighter will deliver the rig to Antwerp, where it will be loaded on a train and sent to Pecs. Considering the unstable situation and the fact that the coven's activities were centered in the capital, we deemed it prudent to arrive in Hungary some distance from Budapest. We will drive to the capital, judging the situation as we get closer. Once there, the vampires will investigate the coven's properties outside the mansion and the lycans will attempt to scent out both their own kind and any vampires still lingering."

"What if you can't find either immortal in the region?" Michael asked.

"Then we're going to have to make other plans," John shrugged his shoulders. "And we'll include the two of you in the planning. In any case, it seems sensible to make Budapest our center of operations, since the coven had spent centuries establishing an infrastructure centered in the city."

The coven's phone rang, interrupting the discussion. For several rings, neither vampire, lycan nor hybrid seemed to know who should answer. Finally, John picked up the phone.

"I need to talk to John," Mark Lippens' voice replied to John's hello.

"You're talking to me right now," John informed him, while Lecoq activated the telephone's speaker for everyone else's benefit.

"Rotterdam, noon tomorrow," Mark Lippens told his audience. "I'm sure you're taping this so I don't have to repeat myself." He quickly told the lycan where to meet, at the airport. "I'll handle further travel arrangements myself. Do you have any questions?"

"No, but you need to know I'll have one other with me," John answered.

"That's fair enough. See you then and there." The line went dead.

"Well, I guess that tells me where Michael and I will be tomorrow," John informed the others. "Michael, I can take care of our airline tickets. Why don't you and Selene to catch some sleep. The next few weeks are going to be hectic."

Michael seemed ready to protest but Selene, suspecting that John had guessed the real reason she had been so insubordinate with the elders, overruled him. She wasn't looking forward to the upcoming separation and was determined to make use of what little private time remained to them before the mission truly began.

* * *

_A/N: I want to thank everyone for the response I received for this, my second Underworld story. As always, I welcome comments and suggestions. Thanks again and, until my next posting, best wishes:_

_daccu65_


	3. Meeting the Cleaners

Chapter 3: Meeting the Cleaners

"Have you ever been to Rotterdam?"

John's question tore Michael out of the serious funk he was in. While he fully admitted that he was the most junior member in this odd coalition he found himself in, he never thought he'd be pining over a woman he had met less than two months previously. Of course, a lot had changed in the last two months. In two months time, he had discovered that werewolves and vampires actually existed and were in some sort of war of attrition. Then he became a werewolf, then became some sort of hybrid of the two. He didn't even know how to go about life as a werewolf, much less as the first racial mingling. Michael realized that he wasn't just missing Selene because she was his lover. He was also missing her because she was his guide and only proven ally in this new life.

"For an aspiring doctor, you sure have a short attention span," John's humorous quip made him realize that he hadn't answered the man's question.

"No, I haven't," he answered. He looked around the small airliner to make sure that none of their fellow travelers were listening. While most of the passengers were intent either on the in-flight movie or their own business, he realized that John's selection of seats wasn't coincidental. They were over the wings, close to the engines. Their lycan hearing meant that they didn't need to speak very loud and the engine noise would keep anyone else from overhearing.

"There's a lot on your mind," John nodded. "Care to talk about it?"

"Not really," somehow, his remark came off sounding like a whiney teenager.

"From what you've said, the two of you have been on the run almost constantly since you took the bite," John shrugged. "I don't think you've really had the chance to sit down and think things through. I've helped an awful lot of packmates come to grips with their new lives and I'm here right now. If you need a pointer or two, now's the time to ask."

Michael spent a couple of minutes mentally chewing over the offer. There was so much he needed to know and nobody he could really turn to. While Selene was his ally and lover, she seemed so overbearing at times that he hesitated to ask her the questions. Here was a man who seemed so much like a friendly father but could he trust the man? Michael decided to try by asking a sort of peripheral question.

"I guess I'm never going to be a doctor now, am I?" He asked. "I mean, what use do the immortals have for doctors? I don't care if you're suffering from a gunshot wound, deep lacerations or burns; the procedure is always to drink two units of blood and take fifteen minutes of rest. It doesn't take medical school and an internship to figure that out."

"Don't give up on it off hand," John chuckled. "You're going to have to learn how to blend in with the normals but there's no reason you can't pursue a medical career, once you do."

"What do I have to learn? Sure, I changed on my first full moon but I didn't change on the last one. What's holding me back?"

"What happens when your colleagues ask you out to dinner?" John asked. "Or what happens when one of your coworkers asks you why you never eat lunch?"

Michael remembered the incident at the Hungarian truck stop and dropped his gaze to his lap.

"You'll get there," John assured him. "Your hybrid nature seems to help you control your temper and your changes but you still can't blend in completely. Maybe the hybrid nature will help you master passing regular food but, to put it bluntly, you're going to have to stay under cover until you manage it."

"None of the vampire coven had this skill," Michael protested.

"And every one of them lived under cover," John pointed out. "Neither Selene, Tanis nor Erika have ever held a job, invited neighbors over to visit or done any of the dozens of things normal humans do to interact with each other. If you're not ready to perform these acts, you won't fit in completely. You'll always be at least a little different and that means endangering all of us."

"Okay, how do I learn how to eat normal food and not toss it right back."

"Put bluntly, you build up a tolerance. You start out with very small portions and work your way up."

"That simple?"

"It's a simple theory," John chuckled. "But it takes years to get it right. One thing you'll learn is to chew your food up very thoroughly."

"Whey's that?"

"Because your body doesn't process it any more," John snorted. "It passes it through in the same condition as when you swallow it. Trust me, passing unchewed food isn't a pleasant experience."

Michael shuddered at the thought.

"Seriously though, don't give up on medicine," John continued. "Think about the advantages you'll have. First, you'll have centuries to practice your trade, so you'll become very good at it. You're also immune to every known disease. You'll be able to practice medicine in almost any environment, once you learn how to do it discreetly."

Michael mulled over what John had just told him. A part of him wanted to rebel, to demand to know by what right John could tell him how to live his life. Then his logical mind took over and he realized that John was right. He couldn't risk standing out.

For a moment or two, he thought about his next question. Finally, he decided to generalize his concern and blurt things out.

"Just how close can I come to having a normal life?"

"That isn't a question with an easy answer," John admitted. "The closest I can get is to tell you that you can live a normal life but it has to be in small doses."

Michael answered with a confused scowl.

"Okay, let me give you an example. Say we get you to the point where you can blend in with normal humans. With a little work, we get you a residency with a hospital someplace. You can buy a house, hold down your job and make friends just like a normal human. The problem is, you can't do it for very long. A normal human could settle in and grow old with his friends, neighbors and coworkers. You're going to have to move on after a few years, ten at the most. You're not going to age and you won't want to draw unwanted attention."

"So I'm not going to have any long-term friends?"

"Not outside of your fellow immortal," John heaved a large sigh. "Michael, this is going to sound like it's a minor issue but it's probably the biggest hurdle you're going to have adapting to your new reality. The fact is that the human mind is wired to operate inside a body that lives for less than a century, then starts to break down. You've still got the attitudes and opinions that are right for a normal human, with such a body, to have. Unfortunately, you're now in a body that won't break down like that and you're going to have to change your way of thinking."

"I don't understand that," Michael admitted.

"Right now, your mind is telling you that you should do what a normal, twenty-something male should be doing. It's telling you that you should put a career together, make friends, find a good woman, find a home, raise a family, spoil your grandkids and hope that you can stick around long enough to see the great grandkids. Up until Lucian bit you, that would have been a great plan for life."

"But now…" Michael prompted.

"Now it isn't quite right for you. If you make friends outside the pack, you're going to watch them grow old and die while you stay young. Then you'll watch their kids and grandkids grow old and die. I'll give you a piece of free advice that's worth every penny you'll pay for it; don't become close friends with any mortals. It just hurts too much when they pass on."

"So just cut myself off from all the mortals around me?"

"No. I've had plenty of casual friends, business associates, neighbors; you name it over the centuries. Heck, my neighbor back in Montana, Keith, was a good guy. If I were mortal, the two of us would have probably been getting together every Sunday for a couple beers and a lot of talking but I'm not a mortal. I didn't become a close friend with him because I knew that he'd grow old while I didn't change. It's inevitable that you'll make some close, mortal friends and you'll take it hard when you say goodbye. Just remember what I told you today and you'll only get burned a couple of times."

"What about the other things you mentioned; home, wife, family?"

"As far as home goes, you're going to have to change your definition. Most normal humans want to find a place they can settle into and grow old. You can't do that. You're going to have to be ready to move at any time. Home isn't a place of refuge and permanence anymore, it's just a place to eat and sleep."

"What about a family?" Michael asked.

"You probably won't have one," John told him. "I haven't spent my time being what you'd call a lady's man but over the centuries, there have been some women in my life. In all those centuries, I've had one child."

"For some reason, we don't conceive the way normal humans do," he explained, after catching Michael's odd look. "Maybe that's why we have such a drive to bite normal humans. From what you and Selene have said, you've experienced that intense hunger, haven't you?"

Michael nodded, frightened by the memory of his last attempted normal meal, at the truck stop. The way all the people around him had suddenly become _**prey**_, how he suddenly needed to feed…

"I know it isn't pretty but maybe that's why we feel such need to attack our fellow man. The urge to attack replaces some of the urge to procreate by the normal means, since the other means doesn't work very well. Something else, for some reason our bite; the lycan factor, seems to embrace males more readily than females. There's about five lycan men to every lycan woman in my pack."

"Your child…" Michael prompted.

"A daughter, named Shelly," John told him. "She's given me a grandson, Brian. We've promoted the illusion that he's really my nephew. His father, Jeff, is with Selene's group right now. Brian stayed behind to help Owen embrace his new life."

"Speaking of Selene," Michael prompted.

"Now we get to the heart of the matter," John offered a sad smile. "You're probably going to want to hit me for saying this but Selene is going to be a temporary thing, as well."

"Hear me out before you say anything," he continued, catching his companion's angry glare. "Like I said before, you still have a normal human's mind. You're wired to find a good woman and settle down for the rest of your life. For a normal human, the rest of your life means less than a century. You're potentially looking at millennia and trust me, no matter how much in love you are right now, you're going to start wearing on each other at some point."

"Are you telling me to bail out when things get rough with her?"

"Hell no! Settle in with her, stay with her for decades, maybe even a century but let it go when it's obviously over. I tried the forever thing with Shelly's mother. We stayed together for a century and a half but we were really bitter towards each other by the time we called it quits. It took us decades to get to where we could even be civil with each other again. Eventually, you and Selene will start to drift. When that happens, let go on and least civil terms. As the years go by, the two of you will probably hook up and break up several times. 'Till death do us part' has a whole new meaning for you right now."

"To be perfectly honest, I've spent so much time dodging bullets, fangs, claws and crazed elders that I haven't had much time to think about a long life," Michael admitted.

"The change is never easy," John chuckled. "And you had it worse than anyone I've known. You got plopped right into the center of the underworld war and then you became the first hybrid. You're different from me, so you're going to have to write some of the rules yourself. I'd like to think I can help."

"I'll take all the help I can get."

The pilot announced that the aircraft was descending, which interrupted the conversation. The two travelers picked up their minimal baggage and passed through customs. Of course, the customs officials made sure that they weren't carrying weapons. Michael stifled a laugh at the thought. He remembered an old cartoon in which a couple of explorers suddenly found themselves facing an elephant. One of the explorers became frightened because the elephant had a knife. John with a firearm would be much the same, a being that was much more dangerous without the implement and with it.

There had been relatively few people on the aircraft so it didn't take long for the two to get through Dutch customs. A few minutes after that, they caught a cab to a certain pub, found a table and ordered a couple of beers. Michael decided that this would be a good time to start training his body to pass normal food, so he sipped his drink. They were half done when a man approached their table.

"Is your name John?" he asked.

"That's me," John asked. "I take it your name is Mark."

"Correct."

Michael took a few seconds to study the newcomer, certain that Mark Lippens was doing the same for him. Michael saw a very fit man in his mid to late forties. The former Cleaner wore nondescript clothing, the sort that a tradesman would wear at work. His hair was dark, close-cropped and showed spots of gray.

"I'm sure you're a busy man," John commented, after taking a few moments for his own observations. "Why don't we get moving to wherever you want to go?"

"I never interrupt a man who's halfway through a pint," Mark informed the elder lycan. "Why don't the two of you drink up? I can wait a few minutes."

Centuries of experience allowed John to finish his drink without either sipping or guzzling. Michael struggled to follow suit. Soon the two of them accompanied their new associate to the street, where they followed Mark to a car. Michael climbed into the back seat while John took the passenger's side.

"We can cut the crap now," Mark announced, as he pulled into traffic. "I want to know just what the two of you are."

"I'm a lycan," John admitted, without a second's hesitation. "Or a werewolf, whichever term you prefer. My companion here is harder to describe. He's a combination of both vampire and lycan."

"I've cleaned up after plenty of brawls between the immortal races,' Mark countered. "And I never found one that was alive after one of the other one's bit him. According to my previous employer, an immortal's bite was sure death to the other species. So why do you expect me to believe that the two can mix?"

"You believe in vampires and werewolves, don't you?" John replied. "I'm willing to bet that there was at least one, little corner of your mind that said 'this is pure hogwash', at least until you saw the immortals for yourself. Once the sun goes down, Michael here can change and you can judge for yourself."

"Okay, that's fair enough. Let me tell you what we're all going to do. I'm going to drive us to a playhouse that I've rented for the day. Some of my associates, and I'm not going to say how many, are going to be in the audience. We're going to go onto the stage, where the spotlights are going to be on, so you won't be able to see how many people are in the audience. Once we get onto the stage, you're going to take a seat and tell us everything you know about Mr. Macaro and what's happening to the east. After that, we'll have a question and answer session. By that, I mean we ask the questions and you answer them. Is that clear."

"Perfectly," John replied. "But…"

"You're not allowed questions," Mark snapped before John could finish.

"Okay, fine," John showed a bit of anger in his voice. "But there's something you should know."

"What's that?"

"Just blinding us with the spotlights won't be enough. I'm a lycan and my companion has the lycan…factor running through his blood. Your spotlights won't affect our noses. Right now, Mr. Lippens, you could blindfold either of us and we could easily pick you out of a lineup by your scent. I don't know how big your theater happens to be but I can assure you that if this little interview you've set up takes more than twenty minutes, we're probably going to know how many of your comrades are present and we'll be able to recognize them later."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Two reasons; first, I'm not very good at intrigue and double-dealing. Whenever I've tried it, I've gotten caught in the end. I feel it's better that I let you know this up front so you won't get mad, later, when you find out. Secondly, there's a very good chance that either you or at least one of your friends already knows this. If that's the case, you'll be royally peeved at me for not bringing it up."

"Okay, fair enough," Mark nodded. "For the record, I didn't know about this."

"Why don't you take a short detour," Michael suggested. "Pull over, step away from the car so that we can't overhear you and warn your friends about this. They have a right to know that we'll be able to recognize them later."

"I don't think that's necessary," John offered his companion a tight smile. "Spotlights won't be the only thing pointing at us on the stage. If they aren't satisfied with our answers, we'll never leave the building alive."

"I see we understand each other," Mark confirmed the lycan's suspicions.

"You're letting him take us off and murder us?" Michael's voice rose in pitch and volume, reflecting his anxiety.

"No, Mr. Lippens here is interested in some sort of an alliance," John told the younger immortal. "Otherwise he wouldn't even be meeting with us. If he weren't interested, he would have just bolted. His problem is that he doesn't know if we're telling the truth. For all he knows, we're from a lycan pack that eliminated the coven and the Cleaners and now wants to track down whatever's left of both groups."

"You've got a good grip on reality," Mark nodded. "I really hope that the two of you are exactly what you're acting like, otherwise things are going to become very unpleasant. Here we are."

Mark turned the vehicle into an alley and parked by what appeared to be an unloading dock. John stopped the small group as Mark reached to open a door adjacent to the bay door.

"We're about to take the plunge," he told the other two. "So I want to try to make things as calm as I can. Michael, they're probably going to separate us so don't fight and answer everything the best that you can. They'll probably be comparing our answers so this isn't a good time to keep secrets. Mark, it may interest you to know that a lycan has passed by here within the last forty-eight hours or so." Catching the former Cleaner's shocked glare, he continued. "I wasn't kidding about my nose."

Mark offered a curt nod and led the way into the dark building. Once inside, he picked up some blindfolds and handcuffs. Neither immortal resisted as the former Cleaner blinded and bound the two immortals. John felt himself guided into an open space with a wooden floor, where he was seated on an unpadded chair. His sharp hearing was able to track Michael being guided away from him to where a door closed quietly, separating him from the younger man. He then heard some rustling as several bodies shifted positions, somewhere in front of him. After a few minutes of hushed activity, things became perfectly silent.

"Very well," Mark addressed him. "For the record, why don't you tell us everything you know about us, at this moment?"

"Like I said before, my sense of smell is much stronger than a normal human's," John told his unseen questioner. "Even though it isn't as sharp as it is after I change. I can tell that there are at least two people, other than you, in here with me. I'm guessing that this theater had an audience recently. I'm having some difficulty telling which scents are lingering from that audience and which ones come from people here, right now. I can say that one of you is very fond of Curry."

John was able to pick out four, subdued chuckles from the audience area. Also, as he expected, he was able to smell the steel and oil of well-maintained firearms.

"Okay, fair enough," Mark's voice responded, with some humor evident. "What can you tell us about Mr. Lorenz Macaro?"

"Mr. Macaro's real name was Alexander Corvinus. He was the original immortal and the father to both William, the original lycan and Marcus, the original vampire."

"Victor was the original vampire," Mark's voice sounded stern.

"I believed the same thing, up until a couple of weeks ago," John answered. "My new associates informed me that this wasn't the case and, after reviewing what I knew, it made sense to me. But I think we were talking about Alexander."

"What else can you tell us about him?"

"He felt responsible for the havoc his children had unleashed, so he formed and funded the Cleaners to protect humanity from the immortals. He also had at least one other child after William and Marcus. This child had descendants that ultimately produced my companion, Michael. Another of my new associates, Selene, tells me that he is dead, killed by Marcus."

"Tell me about Selene."

Mark questioned John for roughly thirty minutes, asking what he knew about the Cleaners, the coven and the packs. Once Mark was finished, he led John into what felt like a much smaller room. John's nose told him that a second man remained with him while Mark left. John waited, as patiently as he could, for roughly half of an hour. He assumed that Mark was questioning Michael at this time. Finally, John heard the door open and smelled Mark's scent. Mark led him back to what John assumed was the stage. Once there, Mark unlocked John's cuffs and removed his blindfold.

John found himself on a well-lit stage. As Mark had warned him, spotlights prevented him from seeing the audience area. John waited while Mark removed Michael's cuffs and blindfold.

"Have a seat, gentleman," Mark instructed his guests. Both Michael and John took a chair on the stage.

"We've decided to believe you, at least conditionally," Mark informed the men, once they were seated. "We have a certain amount of interest in this situation, as well. If one of the immortal factions achieves some sort of dominance, they may come after us. For this reason, me and three of my comrades are going to go to Budapest, the two of you will accompany us."

"I'll let my companions know this," John answered.

"No, you won't," Mark corrected. "I said that our trust is conditional. We'll allow you to contact your other companions after we've had a chance to judge the situation for ourselves."

"What if we don't agree to this!" Michael demanded.

"Then the Cleaners will either kill us or vanish into the shadows," John informed his younger companion. "If we want their help, we play by their rules."

"You're a wise man, I'll give you that," Mark admitted.

"What else are you going to be doing?" John asked. "Once we gain your complete trust, we'll be able to do the job better if we know what you've been up to."

"Fair enough," Mark nodded. "We receive pensions for our service. Like you probably know, even the best-organized accounts need work, from time to time. We have some representatives to contact, in case our pensions get screwed up. My associates who won't be accompanying us will contact these representatives and find out if they know more than we do. They will also coordinate what these representatives know with what we find around Budapest."

"That's a good plan," John nodded. "But it will work even better if you include what the rest of my packmates find, as well. I'll make you a deal, if we can learn anything else, before heading east, will you at least let us tell our teammates that we're still alive and well?"

"You'll give me the message. I'll reword it and send it along," Mark countered. "But how are you going to learn anything else? If you're telling the truth, you don't know anything about lycan or coven activity in Western Europe."

"I know that a lycan passed through that alley," John reminded him. "Why don't we just track him down and have a few words with him?"

"Right now?"

"It'll be dark in a couple of hours," John pointed out. "You, of all people, should know that my kind are a lot easier to deal with during daylight."

"Okay, fine," Mark agreed, after a few moments' worth of thought. He waved his hand and three men stepped out of the audience's area, where the immortals could see them. "You don't need to know their names," Mark told John and Michael. "But these three gentlemen will be accompanying us to Budapest. They'll also accompany me while I follow the two of you, right now."

"There's no time like the present," John nodded. "Since I was blindfolded when we came in, care to show the way out?"

"Follow me," Mark smiled, then led the way out the stage's back door.

Once in the alley, John dropped a couple of coins then sniffed at the ground when he reached down to pick them up.

"Our quarry went this way," he reported, heading away from the street that Mark had driven them in from. "What?" He asked, when he noticed Mark, Michael and the other three Cleaners giving him odd looks.

"That's the first I've heard that a coin can help you follow a scent," Mark quipped.

"You'd be surprised," John offered a small smile. "Dropping the coins gave me a reason to get my nose down near the ground. Now, if anybody was watching us, they won't wonder why I had my face so low."

John led the way as all of his companions acquired 'I should have thought about that' expressions. When the lycan reached the alley's end, at a fairly quiet street, he knelt to tie his shoe. When he got up again, he led the small party on a right hand turn. John followed the sidewalk for three blocks before dropping another coin at another alley's mouth.

"He went into this alley," John explained, after recovering his coin. "Right now, I'd say it was less than a day ago." John noticed that Mark's three comrades were hanging well back, avoiding forming a large group.

"I think the place we're looking for is down here," Michael announced, pointing down the alley. He gave a sidelong glance towards a couple of pedestrians on the other side of the street. John gave a slight nod; Michael was going out of his way to blend in.

John led the way into this new alley and the three men were soon out of sight of any passers by on the street. John noted that the three other Cleaners had taken up station at the alley's mouth, lounging about and pretending to talk. Sure that they would give some sort of warning if anybody approached, John continued deeper into the narrow gap between the buildings. A little more than halfway through, he suddenly stopped.

"What is it?" Mark hissed.

"The scent just grew weaker," John explained. "This means that he must have left this path."

Mark looked at Michael for confirmation.

"I'll take his word for it," the young hybrid shrugged. "I can smell the lycan but I don't have any experience following a trail."

John simply crouched low and retraced his earlier steps. He stopped again near a window well, which was under a fire escape. The windows in the well were boarded over.

"He turned off here," John explained. "I'm guessing he went into the cellar."

"Or up into the second floor," Mark countered. "This building is abandoned, so it's all open to him. If it were me, I'd go to the second floor, it's easier to flee from the second floor than the basement."

"But the building above him might shield him from the sun enough to change," Michael whispered back.

"It's the cellar," John replied, in his quiet voice. Mark and Michael noted that the older man had hopped down into the window well. "One of these boards is loose."

The three Cleaners at the alley's mouth closed in when they saw the other three men debating their next move. Mark quickly explained what was happening.

"I suggest that I go in first, with Michael behind me," John told the group. "He'll recognize me as a fellow lycan, so we might be able to keep things peaceful. Michael can stop him if he bolts and tries to get by me."

"I'm going in with you," Mark informed him. "Like I said earlier, our trust in you is conditional."

"Fair enough," John nodded. "Hang back though. Like I said, he might be more relaxed around a fellow lycan."

Mark only nodded as John pulled one of the boards away from the building, revealing an open gap where the glass windowpane used to be. The elder lycan hopped into the cellar, landing in a fighting crouch. Michael was right on his heels Mark joined them a moment later. John paused a moment, both sniffing the air and testing the limits of his abilities.

"The trail heads that way," John whispered to his companions while pointing across the cluttered, unlit room. "There's still too much of the sun's influence for us to change."

"Does he know we're here?" Mark asked.

"Impossible to say," John replied. "I haven't heard anything."

Mark shrugged and pulled out his pistol. John took the lead again, trying to be quiet as he made his way across the cluttered, dusty room. His lycan eyes allowed him to follow the trail in the dust as well as the scent, so he was sure of his destination when he reached a heavy, metal door.

"I don't read the language," he informed his companions, pointing at the door's label.

"You Americans would call it a fallout shelter," Mark told him, after shining a pocket light on the label. "There's probably a subbasement under here."

"Which may be more shielded from the sun's influence," Michael chimed in.

John nodded again and motioned for Mark to turn off the light. He turned the knob then pushed on the door. It didn't budge, so he pushed harder. Finally, the door gave way with a great deal of clatter and noise. As soon as he was through, John could see that someone had piled some old crates and other junk against the door's far side. While they had made the door hard to open, they had also made a great deal of noise when the door knocked them over. Even over the echoes, John could hear something move down below.

"You two stay here and keep him from getting out," John instructed his companions. They found themselves standing on a metal grate; a railed off perch above a darkened drop of unseen depth. One metal stairway descended from this platform and into the unknown. "I'll go down and flush him out."

"Be careful," Michael told his companion.

"Be careful yourself," John told the hybrid. "By the way, it's possible to change now. I'm staying in human form, since I don't feel like taking the time to strip. You might want to get ready."

Michael nodded and allowed the hybrid alteration to wash over his body. With the tension he was feeling, it was easy to do. He ignored Mark's shocked expression, choosing to use his enhanced sight to watch John descending lower into the building.

John was no fool; he knew that he would be better prepared for a confrontation if he embraced the wolf. However, he figured that he had a better chance of avoiding a fight if he remained in his human form. He caught the scent of a changed lycan, which told him that his quarry was very much aware of his location and his species. Warned by a slight rustle that he sensed more than heard he turned towards a very dark corner.

"Relax, son," he murmured. Holding his arms away from his body to show his peaceful intent, the elder lycan used a calm tone. "We aren't here to hunt you down. Just come on out and we'll talk a little." John had no idea if this lycan could understand English, even when in human form, but he hoped that his tone, manner and scent of authority would convey the message. He felt a surge of hope when a large, furred figure shambled out of the shadows.

"That's a good lad," he murmured. John struggled to keep the dismay he felt, upon seeing how emaciated the lycan was, out of his voice. "Why don't you just let the wolf go and we'll talk things out?"

For a hopeful moment, the lycan relaxed its tense posture. Then, its head spun around to stare at the two on the platform above.

"He's scared," John called out in a slightly louder voice. "He probably smells Mark's gun and he doesn't know what you are, Michael."

The lycan lunged at John, interrupting further conversation. John hadn't survived as many centuries as he had by being careless. Still in human form, he ducked under the gaping jaws and drove an elbow into the lycan's belly. The creature let out a cry that was half yelp and half growl as it fell back. John held his hands out, palms up, in a calming gesture. Unfortunately, the lycan was beyond considering a peaceful resolution.

This time, the lycan came on low, aiming its fangs at the elder's thigh. John lashed out with a fist, catching his opponent on the muzzle and forcing the jaws shut. He turned slightly as the beast plowed into him, directing his foe's body by him to sprawl on the concrete floor. It wasn't until the lycan sprang to its feet that John realized what it was up to.

"Don't kill him!" John yelled to his companions, as the lycan scampered up the stairs. "We need to talk to him!"

Mark didn't register John's words. Years of military and Cleaner experience had honed his reflexes. As soon as he saw the large body charging up the stairs, he dropped into a crouch and lined his pistol up for a clean shot.

Michael shoved the former Cleaner to one side and stepped forward to meet the lycan head-on. The two bodies crashed into each other, drawing a yelp from the startled lycan. Using his hybrid strength, Michael caught his foe in a bear hug and slammed him onto the platform's unyielding surface. The impact forced the air out of the lycan's lungs. The beast could only lie there, unable to move as John rushed up the stairs.

"Michael, don't let him get up!" John snapped. The hybrid nodded and grabbed the lycans wrists. "Mark, give me your pistol!"

The former Cleaner had been so conditioned to following orders that he handed over his weapon without thinking about what he was doing. John ejected the clip and pulled out a round.

"These are silver, aren't they?" He demanded, handing the weapon back to Mark.

"Aye," Mark nodded, reloading the weapon and wondering why he had given it up in the first place.

"Good." With a surprising display of lycan strength, John pulled the silver bullet away from the casing. "Michael, open a shallow wound in his arm."

Michael complied, using a claw to slash the lycans limb. John inserted the bullet into the wound. Contact between the metal and his blood forced the lycan to revert to his human form as John wadded up his handkerchief and used it as a bandage, tying it off with his belt. As the elder suspected, the stunned lycan, now in human form, looked like he was on the verge of starvation.

"We've got to get him to a safe location," John declared. "And we need to get him some food." He looked to Mark. "I'm sure you have such a location lined up, you must have been ready to torture Michael and myself if we didn't give you the answers you needed."

"Well…aye," Mark admitted.

"Let's take him there. Have someone visit a butcher's shop; I'm sure they can purchase some beef, pork or mutton blood. This kid is barely alive."

"Wait a minute," Mark protested. "Once you bring him back to health, what's going to stop him from turning on us?"

"He's not about to," John snapped. "If he was willing to kill a normal human, do you think he'd be this starved right now?" John gestured to the naked man, whose ribs were clearly outlined against the taunt skin. "If you go down the stairs, you'll see plenty of dog, cat and rat carcasses. This kid's been trying to stay low and it's nearly cost him his life."

"What makes you think he knows anything useful?"

"This boy hasn't been here for a terribly long time," John explained, with exaggerated patience. "If he had been here for more than a couple of months at the most, he'd have either starved or come up with a steady food supply. That means that he just moved in here from somewhere else. Obviously, he wasn't able to make prior arrangements, so that means that he moved left wherever he came from in a hurry." John caught the other man's eye with his own gaze. "Do you happen to know anywhere that an immortal might be so desperate to leave that he'd risk starvation to get away?"

"You think he came from Hungary?"

"It's very possible. Now, why don't we get this boy moved to someplace more secure and get him fed. With any luck, he can give us some warning about what we're heading into."

* * *

_A/N:_

_Again, my thanks for reading my fic. If you'd please, drop me a note to let me know what you think. _

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	4. Initial Actions

Chapter 4: Initial Actions

"Okay son, I think you need to let us know what you've been up to for the last couple of weeks."

The young lycan stared fearfully at John from his seat in the Cleaners' safe location. Mark, who was with the elder lycan, translated the question to Hungarian for the captive/guest's benefit.

"Why does he need a translator? Didn't your elder come from Hungary?" One of the cleaners, named Pat, asked Michael. The hybrid and two of Mark's comrades were watching the interview/interrogation on a television screen, via a tiny camera hidden in the room. With any luck, the vagabond lycan would be less likely to panic and clam up with only two people questioning him.

"He's from Hungary," Michael answered. "But from over six centuries ago. While he understands Hungarian, when someone speaks slowly and clearly, he probably won't be able to understand a scared youngster who uses a lot of slang."

"Then why didn't you translate?"

"For one thing, I'm a hybrid. We're trying to get that boy to calm down a little bit, not scare him by confronting him with something he's never smelled before today. For another thing, you guys wouldn't trust us three immortals in the same room alone, camera or no."

"That's bloody true enough," Pat nodded.

In the interrogation room, John's only answer was a panicked stare.

"Okay son," John tried again. "Why don't we do this the easy way? You're starving; I can see that." The elder produced a large mug of beef blood and took a small sip before setting it near the youngster. "Take some blood. You'll be able to face things a lot better with it."

Again, he paused while Mark translated.

"It isn't poisoned or drugged," John assured the man, when he didn't appear ready to take the nourishment. "You saw me take some with your own eyes and you can tell I'm your type with your own nose. No matter what we have planned for you, you'll be better off fed and healed."

Maybe it was John's logical argument; maybe it was his reasonable tone. Maybe it was the fact that the youngster was hungry and tired but the lycan nodded and took the glass. John could tell that he was trying to maintain a stoic demeanor but just couldn't manage it. The younger lycan started out sipping at the blood but quickly guzzled the glass dry.

"Now we're getting somewhere," John commented, noting with satisfaction that the captive's body was starting to fill in just a little bit. "You're feeling a little better already, aren't you?"

The younger lycan nodded his head, after Mark translated.

"I hope you realize that if we wanted to do anything unpleasant to you, we would have done it while you were weak," John informed him. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that we're on your side but I will say that we _might_ be on your side."

Another nod answered him, after the translation.

"Let's start with a simple question, what's your name?"

"Tibor," the young lycan gasped.

"Okay Tibor, things are going to get a little more complicated. How long have you been living in Rotterdam?"

"Is that where I am?" Tibor countered.

"I'm the one asking questions," John growled. "But for your information, yes."

"I'm not sure, maybe a few weeks. It has been hard to keep track."

"I understand. Where were you living before you came here?"

"An abandoned mine outside of Salgotarjan," Tibor answered. "Ivor wanted to be far enough away from the bloods' base in Budapest that we'd have some warning if they came after us but still be close enough to keep an eye on them."

"I take it Ivor's your leader."

"He was," Tibor replied. "He founded our den."

"Was?" John prompted.

"We got wiped out. Things had gone crazy and it was my turn to stand watch in Budapest. There were only six of us, counting Ivor. We only had one vehicle, a motorcycle. I had it and a cell phone. I was riding back to the den to turn them over to the next watcher. I knew something was wrong when I got to the old property fence and the sentry wasn't there. I got to the mineshaft and I could smell the blood and offal from my pack. I could smell the others and hear them talking. I…I…"

The young lycan slumped, unable to meet either John's or Mark's gaze. John suspected that he knew the problem.

"I'm over six centuries old," he told Tibor. "If you think I've followed the hero's path that entire time, you're mistaken. Son, there have been times I've run like a coward and times I've cried like a baby. If you think I'm going to come down on you for not taking on whoever took out your pack, you're wrong. I just need to know everything you can tell me."

John's admission of imperfection seemed to put some iron back in Tibor's spine. After Mark translated, he sat up a little straighter and held his chin up a little higher.

"I just ran," he admitted. "I knew that there were several of them inside the mine so I turned around, jumped on the motorcycle and just left. I had enough money to keep petrol in the motorcycle until I reached the Austrian Border but I didn't have a passport. Of course, that's not that big of a deal for things like us, is it? I pawned off the motorcycle and crossed the border at night. Eventually, I found a train heading west and jumped on. I wound up here."

"Just where were you trying to go?" Strangely, it was Mark that asked this question, which he repeated, in English, for John's benefit.

Tibor glanced, pointedly, between his two captors until John nodded for him to answer.

"I didn't know," he admitted. "I just wanted to get away. I kept going until I couldn't catch the scent of a lycan or a blood. I never thought about passports or language. I don't speak Dutch, German or English, so I couldn't really fit in all that well."

"Why didn't you take a normal human?" John asked. "You were clearly starving to death."

Mark seemed very interested in the answer.

"Do you think I'm insane?" Tibor demanded. "If I started to attack humans, it would have only been a mater of time before they tracked me down! I just hid here and hoped nobody would notice the strays going missing."

"What were your long term plans? You were starving! How much longer could you have held out?"

"I was going to move, eventually but I was scared that another band would track me down. I don't want to die!"

"I understand," John nodded. "Now you're a loner. I'm offering you the chance of joining a group. You'll have comrades and food. In return, you'll be our guide in your old range."

"You want me to go back?"

"We need to. You've seen yourself that the war didn't stay in Budapest, it spilled out to your den. Why do you think it will stay in Hungary or even Eastern Europe? What happens when it gets so out of hand that the normal humans find out? Son, your only chance is our only chance, to go back and try to put an end to the fighting."

Tibor dropped his head. Clearly, John's authority and logical reasoning were evenly matched with the younger lycan's fear.

"You won't have to worry about the bloods," John told him, trying to play a trump card. "We're have an alliance with one group and it should grow to include more."

"Bloods!?" Tibor snorted, half-amused and half-disgusted. "Elder, it wasn't bloods that killed my pack. It was my own, fellow lycans."

"What?" John was dumbfounded.

"It isn't just us and the bloods killing each other off," Tibor informed him. "The packs have started to tear into each other. Our mineshaft was a prime den and the other pack wanted it for themselves."

"Why didn't they attack you before?" Mark demanded. "In my years with the Cleaners, we never found any traces of a lycan-on-lycan fight."

"They happened," Tibor informed him. "But it was never whole packs going after each other. We'd poach a member or two from rival packs and they'd do the same thing to us, every so often. You never found any evidence because we cleaned it up and none of us actually exist on any census."

"What happened?" Mark continued his questions.

"Ivor might have been able to tell you!" Tibor snarled at the normal human. "But he's gone, I smelled his life's blood! If you want to know, you're going to have to ask the bastards that butchered my kin!"

"That's exactly what we're going to do," John cut in. "You're going to lead us right to your old den and we're going to deal with this."

"I…but…" Tibor stammered. Finally, after a minute of silence, he continued. "I will do as you command, elder but I want you to know that I'm no hero. If they kill you, I'll turn and run again."

"I'm not asking for anything else…yet," John told him. "We're going to be leaving in a day or so. In the meantime, feed and rest up; the next few weeks are going to be rough."

John left a large thermos full of beef blood on the table and he and Mark left the secure room, locking it behind them. Tibor simply shrugged his shoulders, consumed another serving of the life-giving fluid and settled back on his cot to get some rest.

"So what's the plan now?" Michael asked, as soon as John and Mark returned to the Cleaners' control room.

"Pretty much the same that we came up with before we met Tibor," John told him. "The only change I'd suggest is that we check out this pack in Salgotarjan, on our way to Budapest."

"I agree," Mark informed the two immortals, taking a seat. "We can find out what our friend in there isn't willing to tell us."

"Unwilling?" John asked. "I'd say he told us everything he knew."

"I don't believe he didn't know what had changed; why the lycan bands became more violent after the elders passed away," Mark informed him, taking a seat. The former Cleaner gestured for his guests to be seated as well. Moments later, Mark's comrades joined them. While there was still suspicion, a great deal of tension had faded.

"His pack founder, this Ivor fellow, probably kept him in the dark," John countered. The elder lycan heaved a sad sigh. "Not all lycans care very much about their followers. Too many of us try to establish a pack and exploit those we can turn. While most humans die within an hour of being bitten by an immortal, a few change. When that happens, the established immortal's experience usually allows him to dominate the new immortal."

"So what happens?" Michael had personal interest in finding out.

"The established immortal treats the new ones like a lord ruling serfs," John answered. "He forces the younger ones to work for him and protect him. Some, like Victor, did so with a sense of honor; he treated his followers as valued servants and made an effort to help them serve him better. Others aren't as considerate."

"Meaning what?" This time, Mark asked the question. Michael figured this was the first friendly contact he had ever had with an immortal.

"Meaning that they don't give their followers the tools they need to be effective support." A quick glance at his audience told John that they didn't understand his statement.

"Okay, imagine that you're a new immortal, less than a year after turning," John began.

"I think I can imagine that," Michael chimed in.

"You haven't yet managed to blend in with the normal humans," John continued, giving Michael an amused glance. "You haven't managed to pass normal food through your system. If you're a lycan, you haven't managed to control your temper, which means you can't control your changes. If you're a blood, you obviously can't withstand sunlight. In either case, you're probably a missing person. While you can go out and mingle with normal humans for a few hours, you can't do anything more permanent, like getting a good job, opening a savings account or making a major purchase."

"How is this a disadvantage for an immortal?" Mark looked honestly perplexed.

"Even immortals need shelter, clothing and transportation," John pointed out. "That means we have to deal with the people who provide these things in return for money. Capitalism 101, I give you money and you provide me with a product or service I want."

"I understand that!" Mark snapped back.

"Okay, how does an immortal get the money? Since you don't have a real identity and you're either very short tempered or can't withstand sunlight, your employment opportunities are very limited. The only job you can get is the sort that doesn't appear on tax records. These jobs don't pay very well so you either work for peanuts or you go into crime."

"What does this have to do with the original immortal?" Mark asked.

"I'm getting to that. If you're a short-sighted, parasitic immortal, you send your followers out to work these jobs, or perform crimes, for weeks and months on end and you take all their money when they return."

"What's the alternative?"

"You develop them and your own situation. You develop contacts that allow you to put your followers into safer, better-paying jobs. You work with your followers so that they can blend into normal human society. At the end, you help him live completely independently of you."

"How do you know all of this?"

"I've spent centuries keeping my pack safe by breaking up two-bit dictators like I just described. The sad fact is that more lycans than bloods have died at my hand. I console myself with the fact that most lycans I've encountered now live relatively normal lives and the normal humans that live around them have no idea just what they are…and no need to fear them."

"So this lycan band in the cave…" Michael prompted.

Is a danger to all immortals," John informed him. "Or to be more precise, the leader is. That's why I want to take the detour to deal with them. We'll eliminate a leader who's too aggressive and find out more about what's happening in the old country."

"Well, you've more than earned our conditional trust," Mark added. "We'll have our transportation arranged in about another twelve hours. In the meantime, we'll allow you a short message to your comrades. Write it out and I'll send the gist of it. We still don't trust you completely and I won't take the chance that you're sending some sort of codewords."

"Fair enough," John nodded. "I have a feeling we'll all be meeting up in Hungary before too much longer."

* * *

"We have a problem and you're going to be the key to solving it."

Selene spun around to see Jeff, the senior lycan in her group. She sighed in frustration. The last couple of days had been trying enough without any further complications. She missed Michael and was more than a little worried that she hadn't heard from him and John yet. After overseeing the shipping company loading the coven's secure rig onto the freighter, she had hopped aboard the ship for the voyage to Antwerp. The coven members had been forced to shelter in the rig, as the ship arrived during daylight hours. Selene and the pack members had overseen the company that transferred the rig from the freighter to a rail car.

Selene could just about imagine what the vampires inside the rig were going through, as a crane suspended their rig in midair, in broad daylight. She chose to ignore the comments several pack members made about how much simpler life would become if the rig were to break free, fall and break open. She did, however, snarl at them to shut up when they began to discuss just how much they would have to pay the crane operator to make the accident occur. She heaved a sigh of relief when the rig was secured aboard the cargo train.

Next, Selene and the pack members had to secure transportation for themselves. This wasn't exactly easy, since none of them spoke Belgian. Fortunately, the travel-company had enough people who spoke English that they were able to secure passes aboard a passenger train. Of course, this wasn't the same train that carried the rig, which didn't exactly please Lecoq. The New World Coven's leader explained, long and loud over the telephone, just how little he cherished the idea of his band traveling, through the daylight, with no guardians nearby. Selene finally silenced him by suggesting that she and the lycans didn't necessarily need to be waiting for the coven, at Pecs, when the rig's train arrived. While Lecoq still wasn't happy, he acknowledged her point.

The passenger train arrived in Pecs well before the cargo train, which allowed Selene and her companions to secure some local transportation. As a Death Dealer, Selene had occasionally received assignments that took her around Hungary, searching for hidden lycans. As such, she was familiar with some of the various companies and individuals who did business with the Coven and she had plenty of money to spend. She was able to rent a tractor with very little difficulty. One of the lycans had spent the last decade driving cattle trucks, so he would be able to tow the rig with little trouble. She was also able to rent two roomy, luxury cars and two vans, combining hauling capacity and comfort for her reluctant, lycan allies. Now, with sundown less than an hour away and the freight train scheduled to arrive less than an hour after that, she didn't want to deal with additional problems.

"If you're talking about the vampire scent you've already detected, I'm perfectly aware of it," Selene informed him, in an almost bored tone. "It's my decision that we'll allow the coven members in the rig to make contact. We need to find out what's happening, not settle centuries' old vendettas. If you destroy them, we receive no information."

"It's not that easy. These bloods have been feeding on humans."

"You will not use that term for vampires again!" Selene snapped. She really didn't have any animosity towards Jeff because the lycan didn't show any animosity towards her. He had been born in Canada and the lycan/vampire blood feud was news, not experience, to him. Unfortunately, half of the lycan band was from Eastern Europe and only their pack-enforced discipline kept them from running off to settle old scores.

"Whatever term I use, this is serious," Jeff retorted.

"How do you know that they've been feeding on humans? I can't determine this."

"You've had a lycan's sense of smell for less than a month, while I've had it for two and a half centuries. You've got the tools but not the experience. You can't tell the difference between all the human blood inside human bodies and what the bl…er…the vampires have spilled. Add to this, we've checked the local papers. A couple of people have gone missing in the last couple of weeks. You have two normals vanishing and spilled, human blood on vampires. I don't think it's a coincidence."

"So what do you want to do about it? Are you some sort of bold defender for the normals?" Five plus centuries of existence had given Selene an annoyed look that very few could withstand.

Jeff did. "I'm more worried about my kin and I," he informed her. "Back in North America, neither the coven nor the pack preyed on the normals. We knew that if we did so, they'd eventually figure out what was happening. We killed more fellow lycans than vampires and I'm pretty sure the coven's Death Dealers eliminated more rogue vampires than lycans. From what I've heard, the elders also kept the coven from taking normals in Europe. It seems to me that these two vampires certainly knew better."

"What if they fled here, holed up in a safe house then took humans when the house's synthetic blood stocks ran out? I'm not going to kill two vampires for trying to stay alive."

"I'm not buying that explanation and neither are you," Jeff countered. "There's plenty of sheep herds and dairy farms within a few miles…er…kilometers of here. If they needed food they could have taken livestock."

"It isn't the same for vampires," Selene countered, although she admitted her argument was weak. "If you leave town to feed, then daylight catches you in the countryside, you simply walk back into town as a human. A vampire dies in the sunlight."

"Still not buying it," Jeff insisted. "One of my pack paced out the course to a couple of ranches. These two could have made the round trip, with an hour thrown in to feed, and still only used half of the night. No, our two rogues have been poaching because they like the prey they've taken."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Selene snapped.

"Nothing permanent," Jeff assured her. "But this is the sort of crime that needs more than a simple slap on the wrist. Personally, my pack and I would rather eliminate them but if we take them out, the coven members are going to view it as murder. If we run to Lecoq, the moment he arrives, and tattle, we'll look weak in front of the coven. As for Lecoq, if he punishes them, severely, at our request, he'll look like he's siding with us over his own kind. That might alienate other coven members."

"I take it you have a suggestion?"

"Yeah, what say we present these two poachers to Mr. Lecoq, wrapped up nice and tidy and on a pewter platter?"

"English isn't my first language, but isn't the term a silver platter?" Selene actually had the ghost of a smile on her face.

"I'm a lycan, I don't much care for silver," Jeff deadpanned. "Picture this; two vampires are holed up in a safe house, maybe feeling a little guilty about taking a couple of humans. Suddenly, a pack of mangy lycans bursts in and captures them. It's pretty obvious to these vampires that the only reason the beasts haven't killed them is that they haven't figured out how to divvy up the blood. Now, the famous Death Dealer, Selene bursts in and intimidates the lycans into releasing the captives. When she demands to know what's going on and why they've taken humans, what do you think the scared and grateful vampires are going to do?"

"Sing like canaries," Selene nodded. "There's only one problem with your little plan; what if they fight back? We stocked our safe houses with weapons and silver bullets. While the silver nitrate rounds Kahn came up didn't get mass produced, silver's no joke to you."

"I've thought about that," Jeff told her. "And I think I have a solution. We've sniffed out the safe house and it looks like a small, abandoned apartment building. The two vampires are going to be in the cellar, aren't they?"

"Most likely. I'm unaware of any safe houses with aboveground shielded rooms. It's much easier to shield them when they're underground."

"I thought so. This means that we'll be able to wander the ground floor without calling too much attention to ourselves, doesn't it?"

"Except from the two vampires," Selene pointed out. "What are you getting at?"

"You'll see. We've already gathered up the burlap sacks, sand and ropes that we'll need."

Selene wasn't sure if she really wanted to know what the lycans were up to.

Less than a half-hour later, she had to admit that 'crude but effective' was a very apt phrase when dealing with the North American Pack. Jeff's plan was simple; the lycans filled up several burlap sacks with sand and loaded them into one of the vans. As predicted, there was nobody in the safe house's ground floor. The pack quickly found the stairway leading below while four of their members, including Jeff, hung the sandbags on their bodies as a sort of armor.

A few short weeks ago, Selene would have gunned these lycans down without mercy. Now, she found herself silently wishing them luck as one of their packmates broke the door, allowing the four 'sandbagged' lycans to rush into the basement.

Jeff led the way down the stairs. His enhanced hearing picked up the sounds of someone or, more likely, something scrambling in the darkness below him. Four shots rang out. The first round hit the sandbag over his chest, the second tore a furrow across his shoulder and the last two flew wild. Jeff managed a glimpse of the gunner ducking inside a door and slamming it shut.

The four sandbagged lycans went back to back at the foot of the stairs, observing their surroundings. They found themselves in a dark, open room lined by doors. The smell of both vampire and dead human was stronger here. Before Jeff could start the game of cat and mouse, searing pain shot through his chest. He dropped the sandbag over his chest to reveal a smoking wound. The first bullet had fractured and a silver fragment had penetrated his skin.

"Second wave in," he hissed, digging a set of needle-nosed pliers out of his pocket. In response to his command, four more lycans descended the stairs while their sandbagged kin edged outwards, making a sheltered place for the newcomers. Once in the basement, the second wave embraced the wolf.

Jeff snarled as he dug the fragment out of his chest. Fortunately, the sandbag had absorbed most of the bullet's force. His own sternum had stopped the sliver but it still hurt like the devil. Dropping the hated metal to the floor, the senior lycan carefully reviewed the plan and embraced the wolf.

As always, the dim room suddenly became brighter even as colors faded into shades of gray. The scents that he had detected while in human form sharpened, becoming much than odors. Now, his nose gave him a picture of his surroundings that complimented what his eyes were telling him. In addition, the vague rustlings he had heard before became much more defined. Now, he could tell that two beings were whispering to each other behind one of the doors.

The downside was that he lost some of his reasoning. He knew that the beings inside the room were his hated enemies and he desperately wanted to shatter through the thin wood separating him from them. He wanted to feel their flesh rend beneath his claws, to hear their bones snap under his maw and to taste their hot blood in his mouth. However, he could remember that he had to change back, to become weaker but smarter. Reluctantly, he released his strength and denied his urges.

Once in his human form, Jeff motioned towards the door he had heard the vampires behind. Now that he had regained his human reasoning, he realized that one of the sounds he had heard earlier was the vampires reloading a weapon. Jeff motioned towards the door, then towards two of the changed lycans. The two lycans he had selected stood while the human-formed lycans draped all of the sandbags upon them. Jeff selected one of his armored kin, who crept up close to the door with the other armored lycan directly behind him.

At Jeff's signal, the first lycan hurled his weight against the door, smashing it into the room. Shots rang out, tearing into the sandbags the lead lycans carried. The two armored lycans surged deeper into the room, with the unchanged lycans on their heels. The two vampires were sent sprawling by the onrushing lycans. Jeff, right behind his changed kin, jumped on top of the first vampire he spotted…

…and was sent sprawling. While Jeff was stronger than a normal human, he wasn't anywhere near as strong as a vampire while he was in his human form. The lycan noticed that one of his kin was howling in agony and reverting to his human form, clearly suffering from silver intrusion. The other armored lycan hurled a sandbag at the vampire that had struck Jeff, smashing the stunned immoral into the far wall.

Jeff refused to black out. He got his feet under him again and lunged for the fallen vampire while two more of the unchanged lycans grappled the second blood. Avoiding his opponent's fangs, Jeff secured a wristlock and threw the vampire onto her belly. In the few moments she remained stunned, he secured her hands behind her back with a couple of tie-wraps. Before she could regain her feet, he lashed her ankles together with a couple more.

"One clear!" He shouted, keeping his knee in the small of her back.

"Two clear!" A shout came back. He risked a glance and noticed that two of his kinsmen had secured the other vampire.

"Human form!" Jeff shouted. "See to the wounded!"

The three kinsmen still in werewolf form started to revert. While all of the kinsmen with him were experienced lycans, Jeff didn't see any need to take any chances. The bloods had managed to inflict a couple of injuries and were now lying helpless. Wolven aggression could easily overcome inhibited reasoning in these circumstances.

Another kinsman started to dig silver shards out of the wounded lycan. Jeff got a closer look at his captives and decided that they had been functionaries of some sort. Neither had handled their weapons terribly well and they hadn't taken advantage of the time the lycans had spent organizing the last rush. Now, he fell into his role, leering at the helpless captives. Moments later, Selene burst into the room and snarled at the gathered lycans to leave.

Jeff somehow managed to keep the grin off his face until he left. He wasn't fluent in current Hungarian but he was pretty sure he heard one of the vampires say something to the effect of 'thank the elders.' He ushered the rest of his pack upstairs while he stayed below, listening in.

It was like he suspected, the vampires were telling Selene everything.

* * *

Mr. Lecoq wasn't happy about the turn of events but he hid his emotions well. Granted, the reports he received from the two, captive vampires were valuable and the fact that the lycans and Selene had captured them with no permanent damage to any party was heartening. His allies had secured proper transportation for the combined party and he approved of their plans to move to a Budapest safe house. However, he wasn't happy about the way his allies had begun to work together.

Earlier that day, he had received the message from Mark that John, Michael and the Cleaners had captured a lycan refugee and were about to investigate a rogue lycan pack. While a casual observer might be heartened by the news, Lecoq saw deeper.

There were now four factions active in this venture; the lycans, the coven, the hybrids and the Cleaners. Selene was developing a rapport with the North American Pack while John and Michael were developing a rapport with the Cleaners.

Where did that leave the coven?

After careful consideration, Lecoq chose to not forward the message onto Selene and Jeff. At this moment, the only leverage he had over the other three factions was the fact that he controlled communications between the groups. Until his coven was in a position to exert its influence, he had to keep everyone else off balance.

* * *

_Again, my fond thanks to everyone who's stayed with me so far. I regret to say that I may miss next week's usual posting time, as real life has been catching up with me. Please don't think that I've given up on this story, I'm enjoying it too much. _

_Until my next posting, best wishes;_

_daccu65_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

"Up ahead, elder."

John gave Tibor a tight nod and scanned the derelict buildings with the binoculars Mark had loaned him.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Michael asked the old lycan.

"Not at all," John answered.

"Then why don't we wait for reinforcements?" The hybrid asked. "You have ten packmates Lecoq. Selene is there as well, we can gather our forces and hit these guys…"

"And convince Lecoq that we're a couple of helpless children," John interrupted him. "Look son, I'm concerned about Selene as well. Not as much as you are, but I'm still concerned. The pack with her is my kin and I don't like the idea that I haven't heard from them. The most important thing is that we know we can meet up with them in Budapest but we want to learn a little more before we get there. We need to find out why this bunch decided it was a good time to quit the sniping and go to all-out warfare with their neighbors."

"I'd think that'd be obvious," Mark commented, approaching the two. "No Lucian around to keep the packs in line anymore, is there? You've got another reason for wanting to take out this pack. What is it, punishment?"

"Not exactly," John admitted. "Whoever's leading this pack should have been smart enough to not be so obvious. He was thinking with his aggression, not with his reason. That's probably a lycan's biggest disadvantage in the underworld war, the change makes us aggressive to the point we don't think. Anyway, he still should have known better than to make this all out attack."

"So you _**are **_punishing him." Mark insisted.

"No, I want to know why he did it and he's the one to answer me. If he's an idiotic, aggressive leader, I need to eliminate him. On the other hand, if he was running from something, I need to know what that something is. In any case, he probably knows a thing or two about the surrounding packs. Can you think of a better way to get information fast?"

"Not off hand, no," Mark admitted.

"So how are we going to do this?" Michael asked.

"First off, we wait for the sniper Mark sent out to report in," John answered, then smiled at Mark's surprised expression. "Yeah, I saw you do it. He'll be able to tell if they have a scout on the surface or not."

"That makes sense," Michael admitted.

"He's also an insurance policy," John told the younger man. "If one of us three get some wild ideas about turning on our normal friends, we'll get a silver bullet for our troubles." John looked to Mark. "Will he put it in our center mass or will he go for a head shot?"

"I have to keep some secrets, don't I?" Mark huffed.

"Fair enough but I want to do this while it's still daylight."

"Elder?" Tibor asked, in shocked tone.

"We have normal allies," John explained to the other lycan. "And we immortals are outnumbered. At the worst, if we go into the mine and the other pack forces us to flee, they'll be vulnerable to our normal allies' firepower when they come after us."

"I'm not going into the shaft," Tibor told him.

"You've already told me this," John reminded him. "I'm not asking you to be a hero."

The small party waited for almost an hour before Mark received a signal on his radio.

"My sniper has spotted a sentry," he reported. "In the place where Tibor claims his pack always posted one."

"It makes sense," John nodded. "The pack will find the best place for a sentry. Can your sniper take him out?"

"At pretty much any time," Mark confirmed.

"Okay, we'll use our first plan." John informed his companions. "Have your sniper take out the sentry then make sure nothing escapes the shaft. Mark, you and the rest of the cleaners will accompany Michael and myself far enough underground that we can make our changes. After that, retreat to the surface."

"I still think this is a bad plan," Mark told the elder. "You'll be outnumbered in the pit."

"Sometimes, you have to take chances," John told his ally. "I'm willing to bet that this pack hasn't faced an attack since seizing this den. Surprise is the key; we lycans don't react well to surprises. I just wish there was a way to give the sentry a chance to surrender."

"If we give him the chance, he may warn the rest of his pack," Mark reminded him.

"I know," John shrugged. "We might as well get this over with."

John, Michael, Tibor, Mark and two other Cleaners walked down from the ridgeline, where they had been observing the old mine. Once back on the road, they climbed into a pair of cars, looking like a group of businessmen inspecting property before deciding to purchase it. Mark got on his radio while the other Cleaners drove the cars. The timing was almost perfect; even John's lycan-enhanced hearing barely picked up the sound of the silenced sniper rifle, fired just as the lead car approached the old property gate.

"Sentry is down," Mark reported, as Michael jumped out of the lead car with a set of bolt cutters. The hybrid cut the padlock and pushed the gate open. The second car, carrying John and Mark, passed the first while Michael jumped back inside the first.

The time for stealth had passed. The two cars roared up the pitted, rutted track as quickly as they could. They skidded to a halt once they reached the abandoned buildings and everyone piled out. Tibor led his new companions through the buildings, keeping out of sight as much as they could, until they reached the old mine shaft. Here, Tibor hid while Mark and the other Cleaners donned night vision goggles. Michael remained unarmed while John strapped a holster, containing several silver spikes, onto his waist. The five men shared a look before entering the shaft.

The Cleaners were well trained, if maybe a little out of practice. They advanced down the shaft in bounds, with one man moving while the other two covered him. There were no signs of any other living being in the shaft until one of the Cleaners stumbled over some rubble and fell. While the clattering sound wasn't very loud, everyone in the party could hear the snarls and growls that echoed up the shaft in response.

"We're close enough," John whispered to Mark. "We can change. Get out of the mine, you don't want to get caught down here."

For a few moments, John thought that Mark was going to argue with him. John couldn't really blame him since Mark hadn't known him long enough to really trust him. Added to this was a soldier's reluctance to leave a comrade when danger approached. Still, the logical arguments the men had shared before embarking on this adventure won out. Mark nodded and the Cleaners retreated up the shaft the same way they had entered, with one man moving while the other two covered him.

The two immortals could hear scurrying footfalls approaching from deeper in the mine. Clearly, the pack could hear the Cleaners retreating and were determined to stop the intruders. John unbuttoned his shirt's top two buttons and set himself, dead center in the shaft. Michael embraced his change, preparing for the confrontation to come. He didn't have to wait long.

Michael heard and smelled, more than saw, the lead lycan hurl himself upon John. The elder stood perfectly still, as if he couldn't sense his oncoming doom. At the last possible second he stepped into the oncoming monster, driving his elbow up under his opponent's muzzle. The great jaws were force shut with an audible 'snap' and the stunned beast flew completely over the elder. The lycan didn't remain stunned for long; as soon as it hit the ground it spun around and lunged at John again, leading with a clawed forepaw. This time, John stabbed the sweeping appendage with his silver spike. A savage howl, which morphed into a man's shriek of pain, burst from the lycans mouth as the silver forced it into a man's form. John didn't hesitate; he smashed his elbow into the side of his opponent's head, dropping his now human opponent to the ground. Before the stunned lycan could recover, John made use of his own lycan strength and bent the spike, wrapping it around his opponent's forearm so he couldn't simply pull it out.

Michael experienced a moment's panic, remembering his fight with Victor. For a few, brief seconds he recalled how the terrifying elder had bettered him, despite the young hybrid's superior speed and strength. For a moment, he recalled the feeling of helplessness he had felt, knowing that the arrogant vampire was going to kill him simply for being…him.

More footfalls, (or were they clawfalls?) echoing up the shaft jolted him out of his unwelcome reverie. John was not Victor and they were in a dangerous situation. Michael stepped forward and met the next lycan head on. The hybrid didn't have the elder's experience and finesse and neither did his opponent. Michael simply charged his opponent, burying his shoulder into the oncoming lycan's midsection. The werewolf yelped in pain and shock when it suddenly found itself slammed down on the mine's stone floor. Michael managed to hit his dazed opponent twice, in the head, before another lycan plowed into him. The two tumbled across the mine's floor, clawing and biting at each other.

John noted how quickly his companion had taken one of the lycans out of the fight. What the young hybrid lacked in skill and experience he made up for in intelligence, strength and speed. Two more lycans rushed past the elder, clearly wanting to waylay the retreating cleaners. Sure that the three, trained, armed men would be able to handle them, John pulled another spike out of his holster and hurled it at the last of the lycans, impaling the beast through a hind leg. The monster fell flat on its face, rising as a human again. While John's Hungarian was out of date, he understood most of his opponent's allegations towards his ancestry.

John didn't have the time to formulate a response. His opponent, shrieking in pain and anger, pulled the spike out of his thigh and hurled it at the elder. John didn't give him the time to return to his lycan form. The elder dodged the spike and closed in on the angry man, punching him in the face and driving him back against the shaft's walls. John pinned the man against the wall and kneed him in the groin. Then, he dragged the unresisting man to a support beam and pinned his hands to it with a pair of silver spikes.

"Don't go anywhere," he told the man, not caring if he understood the English.

By now, Michael had overpowered his second opponent and didn't know exactly what to do with him. The hybrid didn't want to kill the lycan but he didn't know just how much damage he could inflict. Too little and the lycan would recover and continue the fight. Too much and the lycan would die. John solved his dilemma by seizing the lycan, flipping him onto his belly and fixing his wrists together, behind his back, with a tie-wrap. The elder then pierced the lycan's wrists with a silver spike, guaranteeing that he wouldn't be able to assume his werewolf form and break the tie-wrap.

Michael and John shared a quick nod, communicating what they were about to do. Michael overpowered John's first opponent, who was trying to pry the silver spike out of his arm, so that the elder could bind his hands behind him. After this, they bound and pierced Michael's first opponent, who was just recovering from the beating the hybrid hand inflicted upon him. With four lycan's neutralized, the two Americans made their way back up the shaft to see what had become of the two lycans that had bypassed the struggle. They didn't have to travel very far.

Much as John had suspected, the Cleaners were perfectly capable of handling themselves in the open. Michael and John met the two lycans, who retreated back towards the mine entrance. Moments later the two Americans heard bullets striking stone followed by the lycans retreating back down the shaft. Michael resumed his human form, so that he could issue a challenge.

"You're trapped," he called out to the two lycans. "If you come down this way, you have to face us and if you try to leave, you'll face the armed men outside. You're close enough to the entrance that you can't embrace the wolf. Why don't you just give up now and save everyone a great deal of trouble?"

As Michael expected, the two lycans argued about it for a few minutes but realizing that they were in a hopeless situation, gave up. John and Michael bound them and led them up and out of the shaft, where the Cleaners hustled them into one of the buildings. John and Michael returned to the mine and led the other four lycans outside, where they couldn't change. After that, the Cleaners handled things with military efficiency. Alexander Corvinus's former employees separated the lycans, so that they couldn't listen to each other's stories, then questioned each, with John, Michael and Tibor close by. Afterwards, Mark met with Michael and John.

"It's pretty close to what I suspected," John told the other two. "That leader saw a better den and moved to seize it. His hold on the other five is strong, so I'm going to have to fight him for leadership."

"Why you?" Mark asked. "From what I've seen, your companion is a pretty tough customer in his own right."

"They might not accept him," John explained. "We lycans don't always take kindly to an outside force dictating our actions. If I defeat the leader in fair combat the others might…and I stress might, follow my instructions. If a normal human or a hybrid were to come in, kill their leader and start ordering them around, they'll probably try to escape."

"He's not saying another reason," Michael interrupted. "I wouldn't know how to lead a lycan pack. I've been an immortal for less than a year. John's been there, done that and the lycans around him know it."

"So why won't the packs get shook up if you're allied with normal humans, a hybrid and even vampires?" Mark asked.

"It's a subtle but vital difference," John explained. "I'm a lycan so they'll accept me. If I'm able to establish my leadership, the other lycans should consider my allies to be my responsibility."

"So are you going to have to fight every pack leader out there? There must be dozens of them."

"The word should get around. If I can take a few leaders out, we should be able to forge some alliances and do things that way. We should have some busy days ahead of us but it will be worth it in the end."

"When does this fight take place?"

"Tonight," John answered. "We do this as lycans."

"Very well," Mark nodded. "I'll report the developments to Mr. Lecoq."

* * *

"Do you think those two are telling the truth?" Selene asked Tanis. The vampires' historian and the former Death Dealer had just stepped out of the coven's safe house, where Lecoq continued to speak to the two vampires the pack, with Selene, had captured.

"I find it likely," Tanis shrugged. "Those two are minor functionaries. They were caught away from the mansion when Marcus destroyed it, so they fled to the only safe haven they could find. When their supply of synthetic blood ran out, they had to find an alternative." The historian chuckled. "It's rather ironic, really. The coven invented synthetic blood and formed a company to manufacture it. This company made a great deal of money by selling it to hospitals throughout Europe. It also delivered a steady supply to the mansion, which the elders distributed amongst the coven members. It was a way that they kept control over the European vampires. This very control could now threaten our species' survival."

"That's not what I was talking about. I'm sure that the distribution system has broken down but I was asking about them not realizing that they could feed upon cattle."

"It's not that surprising. Those two were in their twenties when they were turned and they've been vampires for less than two decades. They've lived in cities all of their lives. Selene, not everyone can recall when horses were high performance vehicles and mules were utility vehicles. Those two have probably never been close to a cow in either their lives or their unlives."

"Very funny Tanis, they still should have known better."

"Remember that they've spent their entire immortal existences under Kraven's stewardship. He didn't have Victor's dedication to racial survival."

Tanis went silent upon seeing Selene tense and scowl upon hearing her former patron's name.

"Very well," he said. "Perhaps this would be the proper time for me to bring up another potential problem."

"It seems that everyone has one of those, these days."

"I suppose you must expect such things when you establish yourself as a faction," Tanis smiled at her. "But mine is probably more serious than you'd think. Do you find it curious that the only word we've had from your companion and the lycan elder is that they've encountered a rogue lycan band and are attempting to subjugate it?"

"Perhaps they're more than a little busy," Selene suggested.

"Perhaps; but don't you find it odd that John would have no instructions for his kin or that Michael would have no endearing messages for you?"

"That did irritate me a little."

"I suspect that we're not hearing the full story," Tanis commented. "It would seem logical for Mr. Lecoq to only give us selected parts of the communications. Right now, he's the two groups' only link between each other so if I were him, I'd exploit the position."

"So that's your crises? Lecoq may be playing us against each other?"

"Oh heavens no! If I got shook up every time someone acted less than honestly, I'd never be able to get up in the evening. I'd be shook up every time I looked in the mirror…in a way, it's a pity we still have reflections."

Selene snorted at the old joke about the mortals' belief about her kind and mirrors.

"No," Tanis continued, in a much more serious voice. "I'm concerned about what Mr. Lecoq has told us about Michael and John and about what Mr. Lecoq is doing."

"Everything seems to be going according to plan."

"For the most part," Tanis agreed. "But the subtle differences trouble me. The fact that we've split into two groups doesn't seem so bad… until you take into account that the lycan elder and the closest thing we vampires have to an elder are now operating independently from each other. This troubles me."

"I don't see why."

"Okay, let me spell it out to you. We have Mr. Lecoq who, by the way, has decided to not punish the two coven members for poaching. While Jeff and his companions are not howling in protest, pardon the pun, they are resentful. Anyway, Mr. Lecoq has decided to move directly into Budapest and reestablish the synthetic blood's distribution system."

"Of course," Selene protested. "The European vampires are either poaching or living off the last drops of their emergency supplies. We have to rebuild the food distribution network as well as other facilities. We have to repair the infrastructure, if you will, and Mr. Lecoq has the contacts and credentials to do it."

"Of course," Tanis nodded. "Which will, conveniently, leave him with a group of vampires who owe him their very lives. Don't you think this might result in intense loyalty?"

"Do you really think that the coven can be manipulated so easily?" Selene's well-known scorn filled her voice. "Do you really believe that Lecoq can simply show up, distribute a little synthetic blood and command unquestioned loyalty?"

"How silly of me!" Tanis's legendary sarcasm, honed over centuries, easily matched Selene's scorn. "Of course we immortals are immune to such simple ploys! Next, I'll believe that an elder might command such loyalty that one of his underlings could…I don't know…imprison the coven's historian for recording the truth about the elder?"

All of Selene's anger and defiance evaporated in a moment. "You make your point," she murmured.

"No sense in getting all worked up," Tanis's voice now oozed false sympathy. "What's done is done and Lecoq is only half of the equation."

"You suspect John?"

"If we're to believe the admittedly revised reports from the other group, John's attempting to subjugate the scattered packs. On the surface, he's fulfilling his end of the bargain, bringing the packs under control and ending both the pack-on-pack and the pack-on-coven violence. On the other hand…"

"There's a chance he's forming his own force," Selene concluded. "A powerful band of lycans under his control."

"With the coven the weakest it has been in centuries," Tanis added.

"That doesn't make sense," Selene protested. "John maintained his pack in secrecy for centuries! If he wanted to strike down the vampires, why didn't he launch a sneak-attack years ago, when we weren't even aware of his existence?"

"I've asked myself the same thing, of course. The only conclusion I've been able to draw is that he has a very long-term outlook. Certainly, he could have struck at the New World Coven. Like you've undoubtedly concluded, such a surprise attack would have probably succeeded. However, the established, European Coven would have become aware of his existence."

"And he would have had an all-out war on his hands," Selene nodded. "It makes sense but I still don't think he's planning treachery. I'll admit that he's in a position, if he moves boldly, to eliminate what's left of the European Coven but that leaves the New World Coven untouched."

"How strong is the North American Pack?" Tanis asked. "We saw a couple of his facilities and some of the pack but we really don't know just how many lycans he can muster or what resources he commands. While we know that he still maintains hidden dens throughout North America, we don't know how many or how large. Certainly he is here, in Europe but back in America?"

"He could have a trusted lieutenant ready to move on the coven," Selene concluded. It was very easy for her to picture; the lycan elder could form a strong band of lycan fighters in Hungary. Certainly, such a band would have been incapable of striking down the coven when the coven was at its peak but that was hardly the case. After Victor's death and Marcus's homicidal temper tantrum, the coven was weakened, scattered and leaderless. While Lecoq would be able to reconnect some of the sundered fragments, many of the coven's Death Dealers had been killed during the savage melee in the lycans' Budapest lair. Most of those who survived had died at Marcus's hand. Selene hated to admit that Tanis was right but John was in a position to crush the European Coven. Once he did that, a simple phone call and the North American Pack could launch an attack against the unsuspecting New World Coven.

What made the situation even worse was that she was separated from her only true ally, Michael. Back in Ireland, Selene herself had declared herself and Michael to be a third faction, the hybrids. It was John who suggested that she accompany Lecoq while Michael accompanied him. Now most of the lycans were here, with the vampires, where they could crush any attempt to reform the coven. John was with the fourth faction, the Cleaners, where he could be forming an alliance. Finally, the hybrids were separated and vulnerable. She hadn't heard from Michael since the separation; was he still alive?

Selene shook her head. Although she had only known John a short time, she had read his personality. He wasn't the plotting and scheming sort. He was honestly concerned for his people and looked upon Michael as a sort of foster son. John was a simple man; not simple as in foolish but simple as in the opposite of complex. Tanis, on the other hand, was a scoundrel and a master manipulator.

"Just what do you gain by warning me?" She demanded. "Even if the pack were to crush the coven, certainly you would cut a deal and remain alive."

"If the pack crushes the coven, I will do so," Tanis admitted, with a shrug. "If the coven crushes the pack, I will cut a deal. I make no secret of the fact that I'm in this whole adventure to save my own, precious skin."

"However…" Selene prompted.

"However, my own precious skin will be easier to save if there's more than one faction to deal with. If the lycans win, utterly, they will have no use for a go-between. If the vampires win, they may just decide to employ a less objective historian. I want to be able to play factions off against each other, acting as a go-between and information broker, for the next several centuries."

Selene nodded, knowing that in at least this case, Tanis was telling the truth. She honestly thought that John was trying to bring peace to the immortals' war and that Lecoq was doing the same, while assuring a strong position for the covens. However, Tanis's innuendoes had made her aware of one thing; she was going to have to watch both lycan and vampire carefully in the days and weeks to come.

* * *

_A/N: Sorry for not updating last week but real life has really been jumping on me lately. I promise to update when I can and to not abandon this story until it's done. Thank you very much to every one of you who has been reading my humble offering and especially those of you who have taken the time to leave me a review and/or a private message. _

_Until my next update, best wishes,_

_daccu65_


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